


tumblr ficlets

by toxica939



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: M/M, Tumblr Ask Box Fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2018-10-25 02:03:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 70
Words: 34,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10754457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toxica939/pseuds/toxica939
Summary: collection of tumblr shorts. various lengths and ratings.





	1. 48. I’m not bothering you, am I?

The idea had been to run himself a hot bath, light a couple of candles with no one around to take the piss out of him and soak away a day’s work of being huddled over his desk with Jimmy breathing down his neck.

In reality, he’s been in the bath just long enough for his skin to stop stinging when Aaron comes barrelling through the door. Robert thunks his head back on the edge of the bath and closes his eyes. _Should have locked the bloody door,_ even if he had had the place to himself.

He hears Aaron pull up short, can imagine his jaw working while he tries to figure out what to make fun of first.

“Is that bubble bath?” is what he lands on. Great.

Robert nods. If he keeps his eyes shut, this isn’t happening.

Aaron laughs. “I was going to have a shave,” he says.

Robert waves a hand airily, water flying. “Knock yourself out.”

If his eyes weren’t still shut he might have been prepared for the hand that settles on his knee, an island floating above the bubbles. He jerks, startled. “What?”

Aaron’s smirking. “I’m not bothering you, am I?” he asks innocently, fingers spider crawling down Robert’s thigh, slipping on wet skin as the dip into the bath.

Robert rolls his eyes. He’s not an idiot. “Bother away,” he invites, sinking deeper into the water, thighs spreading. He deserves this after the day he’s had.


	2. 14. Your hands are bigger than mine

They’re watching Star Wars. Again.

Aaron isn’t even going to pretend he knows which one but he’s definitely seen it before. Naturally, Robert is fucking riveted. 

Aaron gave up long ago on trying to distract Robert when he’s watching something he likes. So he’s settled for tucking himself up against Robert’s side, feet up on the coffee table, sweating beer damp against his leg and Robert’s hand pulled into his lap.

He threads their fingers together for a bit, slotting his between Robert’s back and forth mindlessly. Just because it feels nice. And Robert would never pull away. Runs the pads of his fingers over Robert’s knuckles, a little dry from the cold weather they’re having; rubs his thumb against the shiny surface of a nail.

He doesn’t usually get to push and pull Robert about like this but he hasn’t even glanced away from the screen so it’s probably okay.

Aaron spreads his hand wide, lining their palms up together. Robert’s fingers stretch over the tips of his own, dwarfing them.

 _Your hands are bigger than mine_ , he thinks. Gorgeous hands, nimble fingers that can map Aaron in the dark these days. Make him shiver.

“What?” Robert mumbles, mouth twitching as though Aaron had said that out loud.

Aaron shakes his head, curls Robert’s hand into a fist and wraps his smaller one around it, tips his head onto Robert’s shoulder. “Nothing, just thinking.”


	3. 12. Look into my eyes, what do you see?

It’s Adam’s fault. He’s been playing bloody Radio 90s all week at the yard. That’s the only explanation for why Aaron’s pottering around the bedroom putting his socks away singing that stupid song under his breath.

“Look into my eyes, what do you see? What you mean to-”

“It’s _you will see,_ ” Robert says suddenly. He’s sat up against the headboard, thumb marking his place in whatever book he’s reading this week. He’s all broad shoulders and freckles. It hurts to look at him sometimes.

“You what?” Aaron asks, closing a drawer and moving to get into bed.

“The song, it’s,” Robert pauses, shakes his head. “Never mind.”

Aaron would normally let it go; he’s knackered, his face feels tight with hum of sunburn and he mastered falling to sleep with Robert’s bedside lamp on a long time ago. Except.

Except Robert’s eyes have got a far away look in them, a fond twist to his smile.

Aaron curls on his side, lets his knuckles brush against Robert’s rib cage, lets them rest there. “Didn’t know you were such a big Bryan Adams fan,” he teases. Because he could just ask, but it’s better if he doesn’t have to.

Robert glances down at him, smile gone brittle but still warm. “I’m not. I. My mum used to love that song. It was number one for weeks, always on the radio. She used to sing along to it in the kitchen all the time.”

Aaron’s chest feels tight, too small for all the things he feels for Robert. Sometimes he doesn’t think his whole body is big enough for how much love he’s got stored up inside it. He can’t even imagine never hearing his mum sing again, having to remember.

“It’s a good song,” he allows. Not something he’d usually admit.

Robert huffs a laugh, breath punched out of him and now that fond gaze is turned on Aaron. “It is. Thanks for reminding me.”


	4. 33. We’re running low on time here

It’s Sunday afternoon, Liv’s at the pub washing pots to make up for - whatever she’d done to piss his mum off this week, the Mill is blissfully quiet and Aaron is his new favourite place. Sprawled across across the huge, comfortable settee he’d helped pick out; on his back under Robert. He’s got his knees clamped to Robert’s hips, hands his hair and his mouth is the kind of hot numb that comes with how long they’ve been kissing.

Aaron hasn’t so much as got one item of clothing off either of them and it feels like it’s been _hours_.

Robert pulls back slightly when Aaron tries to work his shirt free of his jeans. It has the effect of tipping Robert’s hips more firmly against Aaron’s aching dick though, so he’s not complaining.

“What’s the rush?” Robert asks, mouth making shapes against Aaron’s jaw, sharp bites back up to his mouth. Robert’s so close Aaron can’t focus on him, can only make out red lips and flushed cheeks, blue behind a flutter of eyelashes before Robert’s kissing him again.

 _Rush?!_ Aaron thinks, doesn’t say, because it seems more important to slick his tongue against Robert’s until his head swims. Nothing about this feels like rushing.

“It’s not like we’re running low on time here,” Robert murmurs, nudging their noses together, hips finally, _finally_ starting a slow roll, “We’ve got hours.”

It sounds more like a threat than a promise in that teasing, smug voice but Aaron can’t even bring himself to care, curls his socked feet around the muscles in Robert’s calves, lets his body ripple.

He uses the hand in Robert’s hair to tug their mouths back together, slow lazy kisses winding him higher and just lets go.

They’ve got time, Robert’ll get him there.


	5. 49. I didn’t know you could do that

The ceiling is spinning. Aaron’s pretty sure he’s still on the bed, thinks there’s a pillow under one of his knees. Doesn’t lift his head to check.

He flops an arm across his eyes. His face is sweaty, chest heaving and he’s going to be cold soon. He’s doesn’t give a shit.

He also doesn’t need to look to know what Robert’s face looks like. Actually he does. Robert’s still on his belly between Aaron’s spread thighs and he grins up at Aaron when he looks down, wipes the back of his wrist across that wet, used mouth as though Aaron can fucking handle that. _Jesus_.

Aaron rubs his hands over his face. “I didn’t know you could do that,” he says weakly. His throat sounds like he’s been shouting. Oh god, maybe he has.

Robert laughs, crawls up over Aaron’s body and flops beside him. “It’s hardly the first time.”

Aaron rolls his eyes. “No I mean the,” he gestures vaguely with one hand. He is not saying _deep throating_ out loud. Fuck that. Except he did fuck that. He fucked it right down Robert’s throat, felt him swallow around it, tears in his eyes, fingers biting bruises into Aaron’s hips and. _Oh_ , the ceiling’s spinning again.

Robert grins again, tips his head to close his teeth around the ball of Aaron’s should in a gentle bite. “I’m full of surprises.”

Nodding, Aaron fits his fingers around Robert’s chin, tips his head back, thumb pressing against that plush bottom lip. “You’re telling me,” he knows smiling and he can almost feel his feet again. 

Another ten minutes and he might think about returning the favour.


	6. 42. You can’t have it both ways

“You can stop worrying,” Robert says over the sound of the shower, slipping into the bathroom, “She’s fed and off to bed, still a total pain in the arse, but fine.”

Aaron doesn’t look up. There’s blood dried brown between the creases of his knuckles, shower tray marbled pink where he scrubbed his neck clean. He can still hear the noise she made, flying over the handle bars. Adam and his fucking quad bike.

“I know it bled a lot but Paddy says they were right, her leg doesn’t need stitches,” Robert’s saying, arms folded as leans back against the sink.

Aaron ignores him. He knows she’s fine, would never have let himself get shipped off for a shower otherwise. It doesn’t help.

He shuts the water off, doesn’t protest when Robert steps in to wrap a towel around his shoulders. He’s dripping all over the floor but at least the water’s clear now.

“I told her not to do anything stupid,” he says.

“You also told her to go and bother Adam,” Robert points out. “You can’t have it both ways,” Robert’s smiling, trying to talk him round.

But he can still hear her, has to bite his lip when he feels it wobble.

“Hey,” Robert says, soft, hands rubbing up and down Aaron’s arms. Not exactly drying him but not exactly not either. Robert ducks his head until Aaron meets his eyes. “She’s okay.”

Aaron nods quickly, eyes flickering away to look at the back of Robert’s head, blurry in the fogged up mirror behind him. “I know. I just can’t stop thinking,” he can’t finish the thought. The memory too vivid, trying to swallow around his heart, suddenly in his throat. She hadn’t moved at first, when she’d landed in a heap on the ground and he’d really thought-

Robert nods. “I know. I get it,” he pulls Aaron in close, arms around his shoulders. He’s getting soaked, Aaron bleeding water through his shirt, all over his chest where they’re pressed together.

Aaron links his fingers around Robert’s waist, lets him take his weight. “Can we just stay here for a bit?” he asks. “I need a minute.”

It earns him a gentle kiss to the temple and Robert’s face burying into his neck.

He’ll check on Liv in a minute, go and harass Paddy until he’s sure she doesn’t need another trip to A&E, maybe give Adam a good shove for letting her anywhere near that death trap. He will, in a minute.


	7. 47. We go on three…

He’s drenched in sweat, Aaron’s fingers clenched around his shoulders, skin bleached white around each tip. His hips have stopped working but only because he’s not in control of them anymore. Everything hurts, in that achey, fucked out, perfect way it always does when they’re like this.

Aaron’s still catching his breath, face red. His knees haven’t dropped away yet, still up around Robert’s waist. He can hear the ocean under the sound of Aaron’s panting, can smell sweat and sea salt. His head feels fuzzy.

Aaron’s legs tighten when he moves to pull out, dick softening now and it’s going to start getting uncomfortable soon.

“Hang on,” Aaron say, legs squeezing. “Just wait a minute.”

Robert sighs, drops his head down into the crook of Aaron’s shoulder, lets his breath steam against the pillow there, stays exactly where he is, where he should always be - inside Aaron. It’s too hot and too much and he doesn’t care.

Aaron’s hands are smoothing over Robert’s back, slip sliding through sweat but gentle. Always gentle.

“I love you,” Aaron says and Robert can actually feel his chest expand with it. Can feel it down to his toes.

“I love you,” he says back. They don’t bother with _too_.

It feels like they drift there for hours, curled together just breathing. In reality it’s probably only a couple of minutes before Aaron taps at his hip. “Alright, go.”

Robert grins. “We go on three?” he asks, not entirely sure he’s got the strength left to lift himself up.

“You’re an idiot.” Aaron pushes at him until Robert can roll free, sprawl of tanned limbs across white sheets.

“Happy birthday,” Aaron says softly, fingers drifting to Robert’s chest.

Robert grins, feels smug right down to his bones. “Yes it is.”


	8. 24. Don’t look at me like that

Robert wakes up slowly. There are gentle fingers sifting through his hair and familiar lips peppering kisses up the back of his neck. Aaron is a warm weight all along his back. He turns his head to smile into the pillow. He’s never moving.

“Happy birthday, husband,” Aaron murmurs, breath stirring the hair behind Robert’s ear. It makes him shiver.

God. Thirty five. He’s bloody ancient. 

Robert’s never really been bothered about birthdays. Not much point when no one else cared. But they matter to Aaron and that means they matter to him now. Besides, Robert’s never been one to complain about being adored.

Aaron shifts until he’s propped up on an elbow and Robert rolls on to his back with a sigh, stretching. It never gets old, seeing Aaron first thing in the morning. Seeing him still soft and open and so wonderfully, perfectly Robert’s. He’s so lucky.

Some of what he’s feeling must show on his face because Aaron’s eyes go warm and he leans down for a kiss. Soft and sweet, a wet little suck of Robert’s bottom lip.

“So what’s the plan?” Robert asks, when Aaron’s pulled back it’s clear that’s all he’s getting for now. “Party over the road or into town with Adam and Vic?”

Aaron raises en eyebrow. “Am I really that predictable?” he asks. “Maybe there is no plan, maybe this is your lot.”

Robert grins, lifts the duvet to peer down at Aaron’s naked body teasing. “I could probably make do,” he says.

“You could probably fuck off,” Aaron says primly but he’s smiling ruefully, teeth in his bottom lip.

“Now is that anyway to treat the love of your life on his birthday?”

That gets him an eye roll and Aaron’s leg slung across Robert’s thigh.

“Maybe the love of my life should learn to keep his mouth shut,” Aaron suggests, as though his hand isn’t already on its way to cup Robert’s balls, fingers teasing at the skin behind them. 

“Never,” he says. And if he’s already a little breathless, well, Aaron doesn’t call him on it. It is his birthday after all. 

It takes Aaron exactly sixteen minutes to get him off. Two fingers crooked just right and Robert’s dick down his throat. Robert spends most of that time working his jaw silently at the ceiling, one hand in the sheets and the other gripping Aaron’s shoulder for dear life. He shouts when he comes and Aaron doesn’t even call him on that either. It really is good to be the birthday boy.

Aaron kisses him after. He tastes of Robert and damn if that isn’t always far sexier than it should be, but he twitches away when Robert reaches for him properly. “We, ah. Should probably head downstairs,” he says. “Liv’s probably about ready to kill me.”

Robert feels his face go slack, “Liv’s here?” He’s already out of bed. There’s a t shirt on the floor, that’ll do. She wasn’t meant to be back ‘til the weekend, Robert was supposed to be making to drive to collect her so she didn’t spend all her student loan on train fare.

Aaron politely refrains from laughing. “Course she is, it’s your birthday.”

No one can prove that Robert runs down the staircase. At least he doesn’t insist on constantly sliding down the bannister like it’s a bloody helter skelter. Like some people.

Robert stutters to a stop in the kitchen doorway. Because it’s not just Liv at the table, jumper held over her nose to hide a grin, it’s bloody _everyone_. Not even just Vic or Diane, _Charity_ is there. And Noah and Marlon and a couple of Dingles he only ever speaks to at Christmas dinner. They’re all there, dotted around the kitchen in between a mass of balloons and drinking Robert’s expensive coffee. 

They’re also all looking at him like they know exactly what he was just doing but Robert’s too stunned to feel any shame. Isn’t great at that at the best of times.

He turns to Aaron helplessly.

Aaron shakes his head. “Don’t look at me like that! It wasn’t my idea.”

Liv gets up for a hug. “He knew about it though,” she says, pulling a face. “So gross.”

Which makes everyone laugh and winds up with Liv in a head lock under Aaron’s arm for most of a quite rousing rendition of “Happy Birthday.”

Robert tucks into his cake in shock, accepts hugs from all the ladies in the room, doesn’t even pull a face when Chas slaps a party hat on him. He can’t believe they came here for him.

He tells Aaron as much later, when they’re clearing away sticky plates and ferrying glasses to the sink for Liv.

Aaron knocks his knuckles to Robert’s chest as he passes. “S’what family’s for innit?”

Robert catches his sleeve, tugs him back in for a kiss. “Thank you,” he says.

“Thank Liv, I just paid for the cake.”

“No,” Robert says, lets his voice go soft like it only ever does for Aaron. And Liv and Vic, if he’s feeling soppy. “Thank you for all of it. For everything. For,” he shrugs, at a loss. “For this _life_.”

Aaron’s smile is tender, like something inside him hurts. “Robert, we love you okay? _I_ love you. You don’t have to say thank you for that.”

Robert nods. “Must be getting sentimental in my old age.”

He gets another kiss for that.

All in all, it’s shaping up to be good day.


	9. 32. Your eyes are red… Were you crying?

Aaron doesn’t do much of the cooking. Not because he’s lazy or anything, it’s just. Well, Aaron’s idea of a hearty meal is four slices of toast and Robert’s actually good at it so. Aaron does other stuff, alright? You’ve never seen Robert clean the bathroom have you? Didn’t think so.

The point is, it’s not that he _can’t_ cook. So there’s really no reason for Robert to look so bloody surprised when he gets home to find Aaron most of the way through Vic’s cottage pie recipe. It’s a Sunday, he’s been home alone all afternoon. It’s not that weird.

“Well this is a surprise,” Robert says. Aaron can hear him taking his coat off, crash of keys into the fruit bowl on the counter that’s never seen any fruit, boots thumping against the wall. Aaron’ll have to tidy those away later, he just knows it.

“Is it?”

He feels Robert step up behind him at the cooker, hands smoothing over his shoulders, soft kiss to the back of his neck. Aaron stirs the stew, sets his wooden spoon back down in the puddle of gravy it’s left on the counter. He’s got a while before he needs to turn the potatoes off.

“Cottage pie?” Robert asks, just from the smell apparently.

Aaron nods, distracted as Robert levers himself up on to the counter. He’s wearing the jumper Liv bought him last Christmas, soft and grey, sleeves shoved up to his elbows and Aaron loses himself for a minute watching the bunch and release of the muscles in Robert’s forearms. Has to check the food again before Robert notices or he’ll never hear the end of it.

“Smells good,” Robert says, which makes Aaron feel inexplicably shy. He’s given up trying to understand his body’s reactions to Robert by now.

Before he can say anything else Robert’s long legs are reaching out, catching . Aaron around the waist. He stumbles into the vee of Robert’s thighs, can’t help but laugh.

Robert ruffles a hand through Aaron’s hair, squeezes him in tighter with his knees. “Thanks for this,” he says. “I was dreading having to sort something for tea after the day I’ve had.”

Aaron shrugs, dropping his hands to Robert’s thighs, rubbing a little because he can’t help himself. “Well, I’ve got my uses.”

Robert’s smile could power the sun. “You really do.” 

He’s got that look in his eye, Aaron thinks, that look like Aaron’s about to get good and kissed and he better hold on tight. It makes him shiver. He can feel himself wavering closer before Robert inclines his head sharply, face worried.

“Your eyes are red,” he says. “Have you been crying? What’s wrong?”

Aaron shakes his head and the smile that spreads across his face is completely outside of his control. “I’ve been chopping onions, idiot. What have I got to cry about? I’ve been sat on my arse all day.”

Robert huffs a laugh. “Sorry, it’s just-”

Aaron hurries a nod. “I know.” Robert doesn’t like to take any chances anymore, neither of them do.

They stand for a moment, just nodding at each other. It feels utterly, ridiculously romantic to Aaron. To be stood in their kitchen, the kitchen Robert built for him, the smell of Sunday food in the air, April shower tapping at the fogged up windows. It feels like _home_.

Aaron can’t really get any closer but he tries his best, hands sliding around Robert’s waist in a hug. He has to lean up further than usual to get at Robert’s mouth but that’s okay. It makes the sensation of Robert kissing down into him that little bit sharper, Robert’s hands on his face, fingers soft against his jaw.

It’s the sort of kiss they don’t often have time for. Starts slow and gentle, slick slide of tongues. Robert tastes like salt and the inside of Aaron’s own mouth, familiar and exhilarating like it’s always been.

Robert’s thumbs are pressed to the pressure points at the hinges Aaron’s jaw, fingers rubbing up into his hair. It makes Aaron want to writhe, push into the touch like a cat until Robert pets him. He settles for arching his neck a little, muffles the noise he makes on Robert’s tongue.

He loves it when it’s like this, kisses long and sloppy, mouths moving in a rhythm they perfected a long time ago. Aaron’s lips feel used already, he knows Robert’s will be red all through tea and he can’t wait to see it.

It slows up a little, has to, windows down to soft brushes of lips, shared breath, Robert’s tongue flickering over Aaron’s bottom lip until Aaron can’t stand it anymore. His hands find Robert’s hips with a groan, tug so Robert slides forward on the counter and now they really can’t get any closer.

He can feel Robert, hard against his belly, a matching ache to the one Aaron is trying not to subtly grind against the cutlery draw. It doesn’t feel urgent though, more like a promise.

Robert eases back eventually, when his stomach grumbles loudly enough to have Aaron laughing into his mouth.

His palms cup Aaron’s jaw, eyes bright. “You want to be careful,” he says, nudging their noses together. “I could get used to this sort of treatment.”

Aaron gives him another kiss, feels warm and soft behind his ribs. Robert always does this to him. “Maybe you should,” he tells him. It’s easier to be soppy when Robert’s too close to see clearly.

Robert winds his arms around Aaron’s neck and Aaron lets him because he’s not an idiot. Hugs from Robert are the best kind of hugs. He hides his warm face in Robert’s shoulder, breathes him in.

He really needs to finish tea now, can probably he can talk Robert into sorting the potatoes if he plays his cards right. But he’s just going to hug his husband for a bit longer first, it’s what Sundays were made for, after all.


	10. 20. You’re too cute

Robert can’t remember the bloke’s name. He wishes he’d been paying attention when Aaron had brought it up because it’s even more annoying watching some fella with _no bloody name_ touching up his husband.

Whoever he is has got his hand on Aaron’s forearm now, where it’s resting on the bar, tapping at it like he’s just gesturing but Robert saw the way he was leaning in earlier. It’s been half an hour of non stop touching and laughing and fluttering his bloody eyelashes. Robert’d have gone over there if Aaron wasn’t so oblivious to it all.

Doesn’t mean Robert can’t stare holes in the guy across the bar though. No harm in that.

“Look at you,” Vic says in an undertone. “You’re so cute.”

Robert glances over the bar at her. “You what?”

She nods and Aaron and whatshisface. “All jealous. It’s adorable.”

Robert gives her a dark look. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he taps his empty glass on the bar. “But I’ll have another pint if you’ve got nothing better to do.

Vic gives him a sympathetic smile. “I don’t think you’ve got anything to worry about. I’m sure he’s not Aaron’s type.”

That makes Chas laugh on her way past, leaning in to his and Vic’s conversation. “Yeah, tall, blond, full of himself. That doesn’t sound like _anything_ our Aaron’d be interested in.”

Robert feels his face do something complicated, he doesn’t know what but it makes her laugh even harder. This is the worst.

Robert spends the rest of his evening studiously ignoring everything and everyone. He’s not _jealous_. He just doesn’t see why the bloke has to keep _touching_.

:::

They walk home together after closing time, Aaron’s new best mate long gone. It’s cold out, breath fogging the air, and Robert shoves his hands in his pockets so he doesn’t do something embarrassing like try and hold Aaron’s hand.

Aaron bumps their elbows together. “So what was all that about tonight?”

Robert looks down, they’re passing through a pool of orange under a streetlight and he doesn’t want Aaron to get a good look at his lying face when he says, “What was what about?”

He can _hear_ the eyebrow Aaron just quirked. “Really? So you didn’t spend all night glaring at Josh? My mistake.”

That is so. “Shut up,” Robert says. “He kept pawing at you.”

Aaron laughs, the full belly one with teeth and everything, like Robert’s hilarious. “He’s straight,” he says.

And Robert can’t pass that one up. “So was I.”

Aaron laughs again. It’s an old joke but not one Robert usually get to _make_.

They’re almost at the door now. Liv’s left a light on in the hall.

Aaron turns to him as he gets out his key. “You’re not actually jealous are you? You do know that I’m _married_ to you?” his smile’s teasing but his eyes are serious.

Robert huffs a little, he feels silly.

He tugs Aaron in, drapes his arms over Aaron’s shoulders so he can warm his cold hands in Aaron’s hood. “I just don’t like watching other blokes touch you, alright?” It lays him a bit too bare sometimes, being honest, but this is Aaron.

Aaron who tips their foreheads together and sighs against Robert’s mouth. “Well it’s a good job you’re the only bloke who’s going to be touching me tonight then isn’t?” Aaron says.

He’s _flirting_ , Robert thinks, giddy. Has to grin. “Is that so?”

It’s ridiculous, standing on their own doorstep, not quite kissing, arms around each other. Robert hopes Liv’s not got her window open, they’ll never live it down.

Aaron pulls away to fist a hand in Robert’s jacket. “Take me upstairs and find out.”

And really. That’s not the sort of offer Robert’s about to turn down.


	11. date night

He’s not wearing a tie. He’d made that perfectly clear when Robert had suggested they go into town. He’s done enough tie-wearing to last him a lifetime in the last few months. Also, he hadn’t even pulled a face when Robert had used the word _date_ , so. Fair’s fair.

He does put a shirt on. Because he’s not a total waste of space and it’s worth it to see the look on Robert’s face when rolls the sleeves up to his elbows.

He lets Robert drive.

The sun is starting to think about setting, low and in their eyes. Robert fiddles with the radio, twitchy, before giving up and flicking it off.

Aaron doesn’t mind the quiet.

He watches Robert drum his fingers on the steering wheel. It’ll never get old, seeing him wear the ring Aaron put there. It keeps catching in the fading light, keeps making him notice. He doesn’t mind that either.

Robert keeps drumming.

“You do know I’m sure thing yeah?” Aaron asks, he’s smirking and he can’t help it.

Robert quirks an eyebrow. “You what?”

“You. Acting all nervous and stuff. We’re only going for some food.”

Robert rolls his eyes, flicks the indicator with his little finger and doesn’t answer until he’s pulled onto the main road.

“It’s our first proper date though, isn’t it? I want it to go well.”

Which, _seriously_. “We’re married.”

“So?”

Aaron flounders. “Just. Who cares if it goes well? And as if it’s our first date.”

They do stuff together all the time. They _live_ together.

“Really?” Robert says, eyebrows up. “When did we last go out for a romantic meal? Just the two of us? Wine, candlelight, all that?”

“I’m not drinking wine,” Aaron says. Because he’s an arsehole who can’t keep his mouth shut.

“Yeah, because that was my point,” Robert doesn’t take his eyes of the road. “Am I not allowed to want to have a nice time with you? After everything.”

Aaron sighs. He’s doing it again. “Course you are. Sorry, I’m being an idiot. I just…” he shrugs, helpless.

Robert nods anyway. “I know.”

Aaron smiles, even though Robert’s not looking, doesn’t shrug him off when Robert spreads a palm across his thigh. Links their fingers together instead.

He doesn’t tell Robert it’s going to go well. He doesn’t need to.

:::

It goes alright.

Robert makes him try the wine, which is awful; and his risotto, which is not.

There is candlelight and Aaron would be a liar if he said Robert wasn’t a bit good looking lit by dancing shadows. 

The restaurant is small, busy but intimate. There’s a tablecloth and too many forks. The waiter flirts with Aaron until Robert’s white knuckling his wine glass and his eyes are vicious.

It’s not awkward like the handful of other dates Aaron has been on, but that’s probably because they’re bloody _married_ and talk to each other every day.

Still, it is nice to have Robert’s undivided attention for a couple of hours. And if they split the cheesecake for dessert, well, there’s no one there to comment on it.

He lets Robert pay and then lets him steer him out onto the street with a hand at the small of his back.

It’s nice.

:::

It starts to rain on the way back to the car. It’s pretty light, more of a mist in the air. After the wine and the beer and the hot restaurant, it’s actually quite nice.

Aaron tips his face into it and reaches out for Robert’s hand because he feels happy. Carefree and weightless and he wants to touch him.

Robert’s kind enough not to comment, always is. It’s not often Aaron holds his hand for anything other than a bit of extra strength. It feels better doing it just because.

“So, did you have a good time?” Aaron asks when they reach the car. He rocks back on his heels to lean against the passenger window, smiles up at Robert when he steps in close.

It’s dark out, only a couple of people hurrying by, huddled under umbrellas. The street is sparkling wet and Robert’s eyes are dancing.

“I did,” Robert nods, grins. “Thanks for going along with it, I know it’s not really your scene.”

Aaron shakes his head. “It was good. I could probably get used to being romanced.”

Robert leans in, teasing. “What happened to you being a sure thing?”

Aaron would tell him to shut up if they weren’t already kissing. It’s soft, pretty tame for Robert but they are in the street.

Aaron curls his fingers in the shoulders of Robert’s jacket anyway, holds him close, takes his weight. He’s always liked the feeling of Robert’s chest up against his own.

Cold air rushes in when Robert steps back and Aaron remembers they’re getting slowly soaked. Robert’s hair looks ridiculous already.

“We should probably get back,” he says, regretfully.

Robert nods, gives him one more kiss, says, “I love you.”

Aaron smiles at him, feels it through his whole body. Like Robert loving him is a part of him now. Maybe it is.

“I love you.” It’s so simple sometimes, how easy it is.

Aaron turns to open the car door, breaks the moment. “Come on then. If you walk me to my door, I might think about inviting you in for a coffee.”

Robert’s laughing when he eases himself into the drivers seat. “Is that so?”

Aaron shakes his head, feels happy all the way to his toes. “No. I mean sex. And put your foot down, all this romance is really doing it for me.”

He’s probably only half joking. But Robert doesn’t need to know that.


	12. like the first time

Robert can’t stop looking at the ring on his finger.

He’s on all fours, braced over Aaron and there are a lot of other things he could be paying attention to.

The two fingers Aaron’s splitting him open on for a start, static shock of calloused fingertips over his prostate because Aaron knows _exactly_ what he’s doing. Always does when they’re like this.

Or Aaron biting kisses across Robert’s shoulder, chaffing the skin red and numb with the drag of beard.

Or even Aaron’s free hand, smoothing up Robert’s flank, fingers mapping his ribs, just shy of tickling.

He could he getting off on any one of those things. But instead he’s just staring at his own hand. Knuckles bleached white as he fists the pillow under Aaron’s head. It catches in the light from the bedside lamp every time Robert rides back on to Aaron’s hand. Glint, gone, glint, gone.

It’s been weeks. Weeks of achingly slow hand jobs and Robert on his knees in the shower. Even now, they’re dong it like this to Aaron doesn’t put too much strain on the freshly healed skin from his surgery. By rights, Robert should be half out of his mind desperate by now but all he can think is, _I’m going to marry him_. 

It’s on a loop in his head, overriding everything else until he has no idea what his body’s doing.

Aaron bites at Robert’s chin, pulls him back to earth. He’s holding Robert open on the tips of his fingers now, the blunt head of his dick pressing right where Robert wants him. But he’s waiting.

“You still with me?” Aaron asks, voice rough and half teasing.

Robert means to nod, means to laugh it off but all that comes out is a whispered, “I’m going to marry you.”

Aaron’s face goes slack with surprise. Like that’s the last thing he was expecting, like he’d forgotten. A half smile creeps in slowly, eyes creasing. “Yeah you are.”

Robert feels giddy with it suddenly, has to lean down to steal a kiss. Gets caught up in Aaron’s mouth once he’s there, tongues slicking together.

It’s him who takes them over the line in the end, when he can’t stand it anymore, pushes back and down until Aaron presses up and _in_.

It’s been weeks, but it’s not like it’s Robert’s first time. There’s a sting, the burn of the stretch and then the all-encompassing feeling of _god, yes_ as Aaron slides home, fills him up the right way. There’s no space for anyone else inside Robert anyway, but he feels it most when they’re like this.

He rides Aaron with sharp jerks of his hips, nothing even approaching finesse. Watches his new ring slide through Aaron’s hair, watches it brace against Aaron’s chest when he pushes up, knees sliding on the sheets to get Aaron deeper.

There’s sweat in his eyes and he can’t seem to breathe right, mouth hanging open until Aaron leans up to kiss him again.

It doesn’t take long. Aaron plants his feet in the end, shoving up harder than Robert should probably let him get away with, considering. Long strokes lighting Robert up from the inside.

When he comes he feels it in the soles of his feet, stripes Aaron wet and slick from belly button to chin. Has to lean down to kiss that bit from his beard or Aaron will never let him hear the end of it.

After, they curl together on one pillow. Robert assumes the other is on the floor somewhere.

He picks up Aaron’s hand where it’s resting on his chest, twists the ring he put there, thinks, _I’m going to marry him_ until he falls asleep.


	13. 7. how long has it been

Liv stares down at the tiles between her raised knees. Her bum’s cold. She feels sick.

Robert’s sat beside her on the floor, back against the bath. He checks his watch again. 

“How long has it been?” she asks.

Robert looks at her, eyes soft. “Long enough. Do you want me to?” he gestures vaguely at the test on the corner of the sink.

Liv shakes her head. She’s not sure she wants to know at all. She’s only taken the bloody thing because Robert cornered her after breakfast and he can never just let things lie.

“Just give it another minute,” she says.

Robert sighs, shuffles closer so he can put an arm around her shoulders. Normally, Liv might protest but there’s nothing normal about today. She lets him wrap her up, curls into his chest like she hasn’t since she was a kid. Like he might still be able to make all this better.

“What if it’s positive?”

She feels him shrug, big hand coming up to cup the back of her head. “Then we’ll deal with it.’

“How?” it sounds like she’s about to cry so she sinks her teeth into her tongue until the urge passes.

“However. You’re not on your own. Me and Aaron’ll support you whatever you decide. You know that.”

Liv scoffs. “Aaron’ll go mad.” She can see his disappointed face already. All she ever does it let him down these days.

“Liv, he _wont_.”

She pulls back to give him a look and it makes him smile, hand still running up and down her back, soothing. It makes her chest ache. Robert always says everything’s going to be okay, she can’t imagine a situation he doesn’t think he can smooth over, he’s always so sure. It’s almost enough to calm the rabbit fast beating of her heart. Almost.

“It’s going to be okay,” he says, earnest in a way that doesn’t suit him. She appreciates the effort.

Liv take a deep breath, nods. “You look,” she tells him, isn’t sure she can get her legs to work.

Robert leans up to snag the test from where it’s sitting, just grabs it, like he isn’t picking up a fucking grenade.

She shuts her eyes, waits.


	14. 13. Have you ever wanted to hate someone?

Vic’s been crying. She cries a lot these days, ever since her and Adam brought Billy home from the hospital she’s been a mess. Keeps saying it’s hormones even though that doesn’t make any sense.

“You alright?” Aaron asks, but he’s already sliding past her to coo down at Billy in Adam’s arms.

Robert tries not to think too much about Aaron’s thing for babies, it still cuts a bit close, after everything.

Vic’s bottom lip is wavering and she definitely isn’t alright. Robert’s never been able to help the protective mode he goes into whenever Vic’s hurt. Doesn’t really want to. So he slides an arm around her shoulders, herds her towards the door quickly.

“We’re just going to get some air,” he tells the boys, but he’s far less interesting than the newest Barton and they barely look up.

It’s chilly out, still early, and Vic takes a heaving breath when the door closes behind them.

Robert gives her his coat, seeing as it’s his fault she didn’t have chance to grab hers. He keeps his arm around her as they walk, watches her fist her hands in his too-long sleeves.

There’s no one on earth he’s loved longer than Vic, he can see straight through the brave face she’s putting on.

They walk in silence for a bit, down past the pub, breath fogging in the air. At least the sun’s out, bouncing glitter off frosty grass. He feels lucky sometimes, that he gets to live here.

“You can talk to me, you know?”

Vic nods, arm coming around his waist, holding on. “Can we go and see mum?”

Robert’s not the biggest fan of the cemetery. He doesn’t suppose anyone really likes them but he tends to avoid it usually, unless it’s an occasion. Doesn’t need to see the headstone to remember his mum. He couldn’t forget her if he tried.

Vic crumples when they get there. Sits right now in the cold grass.

Robert huffs a bit but follows suit. Whatever she needs.

Vic reaches out, runs her fingers over Sarah’s name, over her own, swallows hard before she says, “Have you ever wanted to hate someone?”

That wasn’t exactly what he’d been expecting. “What? Mum?”

She sighs. “Both of them. Wouldn’t it be easier? I miss them so much Rob and I have no idea what I’m doing. I keep looking at Billy and not knowing what he needs or what I’m supposed to do. I need my mum. It’s not fair.”

Robert cannot watch her cry, he can’t do it. He reels her in until she’s half in his lap, tucks her head under his chin.

“Hey, shh. You’re doing great, Vic. She’d be so proud of you, I know it. We all are.”

It takes her a while to compose herself, face blotchy. She rubs at her eyes, laughs at herself. “This is supposed to be the best thing that’s ever happened to, look at me, I’m a mess.”

Robert hugs her tighter, doesn’t let her pull away when she moves to. “We all are. Could be worse, we could be Andy.”

It pulls a laugh from her and makes her punch him in the shoulder, so it does the trick.

“I just wish she was here.”

Robert nods. Because he gets that. He feels that every time Aaron goes over to the pub for his tea, or worse, when Chas pats Robert on the head, makes him a cup of tea and treats him like he’s _hers_. It’s funny how things can be exactly what you need and still hurt like a knife wound.

“We should probably get back,” Vic says. “I don’t even want to know what those two have dressed him in by now.”

Robert laughs. That’s a fair point. Aaron can barely dress himself and Adam’s not much better.

He curls a hand around the top of the headstone when he gets up, feels it grind rough and solid against his palm, gives her a pat goodbye.

Better go and rescue his nephew.


	15. Did you ever tell him we slept together?

Robert’s leant up against the bar, one long leg crossed over the other, pint in hand, pulling a horrified face at whatever Charity’s saying. He’s wearing worn in jeans, sagging at the arse, the ones Aaron likes the feel of and his shirt’s coming untucked at the back.

“Don’t hurt yourself,” Vic says, sitting down on the other side of the table.

Aaron has to blink a couple of times to focus on her. It’s embarrassing, so it’s not a surprise when his “You what?” comes out a bit gruff.

Vic laughs. “You, staring at my moron of a brother. Did he tell you what he said to Adam?”

“He mentioned something.” In actual fact he’d told Aaron the whole story, about how he’d collared Adam outside the cafe and read him the riot act about staying out all night with a new baby in the house. Aaron’s pretty sure Robert had over sold how apologetic Adam had been.

“Well tell him I don’t need him to fight my battles for me,” she sounds a bit like she’s fed up of fighting altogether. Aaron only knows Adam’s side obviously but it’s clear things aren’t right. Still doesn’t mean he wants to get involved

“Tell him yourself.”

Vic huffs again, glaring over her shoulder. “He always thinks he knows what’s best.”

Aaron nods. “He’s usually right though,” he points out because he loves Vic, but he’s not going to sit here and slag his husband off just to make her feel better about Adam being a twat. He picks his pint up again, hoping that’s the end of it.

Of course it isn’t, it’s Vic.

“Hey,” Vic says suddenly, leaning across the table. “Did you ever tell him we slept together?”

Aaron chokes on a swig of beer. “What? Why are you bringing that up?”

“Just something Adam said. I take it that’s a no then.”

“It’s not exactly the sort of thing that’s ever come up,” Aaron says, shakes his head. “No, he definitely knows, it’s not exactly a secret is it?”

She looks like she’s mulling that over, pushes at something sticky on the table with her nail. “Bit weird though isn’t it?”

Aaron shrugs. “Not really. Not when I know where _he’s_ been.” He doesn’t get where she’s going with this, but she doesn’t say anything else. He’s baffled.

They both watch Robert again, he’s making a start on another pint now, a full one by his elbow that Aaron knows is his if he wants it.

He’d definitely rather go and drink that, press his arm up against Robert’s, get that liquid gaze turned on him, the one three pints and a warm room always pulls to the surface.

“You alright if I?” he gestures to Robert.

Vic still looks a million miles away, but she waves him off.

“I’ll have a word,” he offers, feeling bad as he gets up, “Tell him to steer clear of Adam.”

She nods, and her smile’s not reaching her eyes but Aaron’s caught in the middle of this enough as it, he doesn’t need to-

Except, Vic’s family, and he’s not an arsehole. As much as he’d like to be sometimes.

He sits back down.


	16. you don’t protect your heart by pretending you don’t have one

The truth is like an open wound between them, it’s still weeping, still stings.

Robert can feel it every time Aaron flinches away from him, every time he wakes up in a bed that should be theirs, Aaron on the other side of the wall.

It hurts. Even if he doesn’t feel like he has the right to admit it.

It’d be easier if he didn’t care, is the thing. He spent years perfecting the art and now look at him, broken open, aching. It’d be easier if he could just push Aaron away, turn it all off.

It might not make him a good man, but at least he’d still be whole.

There’s a book in the bottom drawer of his bedside table, an old hardback thing, dust cover stained with coffee rings and smudged where it was used to swat flies. It had been his mother’s. He remembers her carrying it around when he was little, moving it from room to room. He doesn’t remember seeing her read it but she must have done, the spine cracks open in loads of places, her writing in the margins.

There’s one passage, underlined in the same green pen she used to use to do the Sunday crossword. It reads _“you don’t protect your heart by pretending you don’t have one.”_

He thinks about that a lot. Thought about it when he was sixteen, desperate for Dad to look at him, to _see_ him, desperate to _matter_. Thought about it after he got sent away, the lost years, by himself and trying to live a life he wasn’t built for.

He used to think it was a load of rubbish. It’s actually a pretty good self-preservation tactic, making everyone think you don’t care. After a while, you start to believe it. It makes you braver.

He’d only ever trusted Vic enough to keep close. Hadn’t even let her all the way in, hadn’t let anyone.

Until Aaron.

Aaron will always be his exception.

He can’t keep doing this. He can’t keep pretending that it’s going to be okay when he can feel the distance between them.

Aaron’s still here. That has to count for something.


	17. Did you ever think that this would be us?

It’s a nice day for a wedding. Hazy sunshine taking the chill out of the air, almost no breeze at all. They couldn’t have planned it better.

Aaron ducks away from the crowd, shaking hands as he goes, finds Robert in the church doorway, watching on. He slides an arm around Robert’s waist to anchor them together, can’t wipe the smile of his face.

“You look happy,” Robert says, nudging their foreheads together.

Aaron nods. “Course I am, look at her.”

Liv’s always been beautiful but she’s glowing today, all hair and lace. Even picking confetti out of her cleavage and screwing her face up, she’s stunning.

“Did you ever think that this would be us?” he asks.

“What? Father of the bride?” Robert shrugs. “It was bound to happen one day.”

Aaron had hoped. He’d always hoped Liv would find someone worth loving, someone to love her back the way she deserves. It’s been the making of her. Yet another thing the two of them have in common.

“I think we did okay, don’t you?”

Robert nods, the arm around Aaron’s shoulders squeezing. “I think we did great.”

The wedding party is starting to make it’s way out of the church grounds, towards the bus idling in the road. Aaron can see Liv looking around, probably trying to find them.

He nudges Robert, pulls away to take his hand. “Come on, we better get a move on, don’t want to miss you speech.”

Robert lets himself be tugged down the path. “Remind me why I’m the one doing that again?”

“You like the sound of your own voice more than I do,” Aaron says, raises their hands to press a kiss to Robert’s knuckles so he knows it’s a joke. “Besides, I walked her down the aisle, my work here is done.”

Robert shakes his head, doesn’t stop smiling.


	18. 38. Please, just let me show you

Aaron folds his arms, leans back a little further in his chair and shakes his head again. “We’re not here enough, it’s cruel.”

“You can take him to the yard with you,” Liv protests. “He’d make a great little guard dog.”

“It’s not safe for a dog up there. It’s barely safe for us.”

“Also, it’s a poodle,” Robert points out mildly. He’s over by the window putting the kettle on, Liv and Aaron squaring off across the kitchen table.

“He’s not a poodle,” Liv says, for approximately the fortieth time. “He’s a cockapoo and he’s adorable. Something _you’d_ know nothing about.”

Robert scoffs over his shoulder. “That’s not a thing. And your brother happens to think I’m pretty adorable. Don’t you honey bunch?”

Aaron rolls his eyes when Liv opens her mouth to argue back. “Put a sock in it, both of you,” he fixes Robert with a dark look, “I think you’re a pillock,” he turns to Liv again, tries to look apologetic, “But the answer’s still no. We haven’t got time for a dog.”

“Please,” Liv says, “Just let me show you. His last owner died, it says he’s heartbroken.”

She waves her phone at him, bats her eyelashes until Aaron cracks, holds his hand out for it.

Robert groans. “Here we go.”

Aaron ignores him, ignores the triumphant grin Liv’s throwing across the room as well.

The dog _is_ pretty cute.


	19. 24. Can I kiss you?

It’s sort of a thing now, date night. Robert usually picks the venue, occasionally defers to Aaron if it’s sport or music. Normally, like tonight, they go for a meal. The kind of boring, married couple thing Aaron always thought he’d hate.

Turns out, it’s pretty difficult to hate anything with _that_ sitting across from him.

Robert’s probably talking about work, Aaron has no idea, because he’s been doing nothing but watch his mouth move for the last ten minutes. His bottom lip is chapped, almost sore looking, bitten red. Aaron wants to put his own mouth there, would do if they were somewhere else.

Except. Does it matter? They’re married, he can kiss his husband across the dinner table can’t he?

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, quite out of the blue, if the way Robert startles is anything to go by. _Oh god_.

“Can you what?”

He’s not saying it again. It’s bad enough that he said it the first time.

“Nothing. How’s your fish?”

Robert looks down at his plate, back up again. “Did you just ask if you could kiss me?”

Aaron pinches the bridge of his nose. “Forget it.”

Robert put his fork down, reaches over to curve a palm around Aaron’s forearm. “Since when have you ever needed to ask?”

Aaron shrugs his shoulders inside his shirt, feels too hot all of a sudden. “Just polite isn’t it? And y’know, we’re,” he glances round the restaurant, holds eye contact with a woman staring at them until she turns back to her food.

Robert’s eyebrows draw in, confused, waiting for Aaron to continue.

“Forget it.”

Robert eyes him for a moment while Aaron fights a blush. It always makes him feel a bit too laid bare, Robert looking at him like that.

Robert’s hand slides down to Aaron’s own, picks it up and leans over the table a little to brush his lips across Aaron’s knuckles. 

Now he’s definitely blushing.

“For the record?” Robert says, “You never have to ask. But you’re probably not going to want an audience for what I’ve got planned.”

It shocks a laugh out of Aaron, a surprised exhale. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. There’s a pretty dark little doorway next door though, if you fancy a preview?”

Aaron resists the urge to kick him under the table. Just. “Shut up and finish your food.”

 

 


	20. 29. My god you are so beautiful AND 30. I must admit I find that way too attractive

Robert’s steaming. That’s the only explanation for the way he ricochets through the doorway, sort of rolls along the wall while he tries to toe his shoes off without untying them.

Brilliant.

Aaron clicks his bedside lamp on and shoves up to sit against the headboard.

“I take it it went well then?” he asks, there’s no way he could stop himself sounding amused, so he doesn’t bother trying. Robert’s not going to notice anyway.

Robert jerks as though he’d forgotten Aaron was there. He gets his shoes off though so he’s not doing too badly.

“Adam wanted to go for a drink after,” he tells Aaron, who already knows that.

“Yeah. You text me.”

“Did I?” Robert sounds thrilled, patting his pockets down for his phone. “I’m not sure where I’ve left my phone.”

He straightens up, makes a start on unbuttoning his shirt. Aaron has a feeling it’s going to take a while.

“The bloke said yes though, right?”

Robert nods, mouth working before any sounds comes out. “He did. He signed everything. He had a little moustache too.”

Aaron suspects that has exactly nothing to do with anything so he just nods. 

He’d known letting Adam go with Robert to meet the big new potential client was risky. He’d known they’d get the job done, but he also knows Adam. One of Adam’s main aims in life is to have Robert as hammered as possible at all times. Ever since that karaoke incident.

“You know,” Robert says, putting a knee on the bed. His trousers are still around one ankle. “I must admit, I find that _way_ too attractive.”

Aaron pulls a face. “What are you on about?”

“That!” Robert exclaims, pointing. “That face. The one where you’re pretending you’re not wildly charmed by me. I love that face. I love you.”

That’s the problem isn’t it? Aaron’s always bloody charmed by him, it’s annoying.

He heaves a sigh and throws back the covers before Robert can get any ideas about crawling on top of him smelling like a fucking brewery.

“I’ll get you a glass of water,” he says. “Do you think you can manage to get in bed?”

Robert rolls onto his back, gives him an enthusiastic thumbs up.

It’s possible that Aaron takes slightly longer than necessary to fill a glass from the tap, clocks Robert’s phone under the kitchen table, leaves it there.

Robert has made it under the duvet by the time Aaron sets the glass on his bedside table, pops a box of paracetamol there too for the morning. Better safe than sorry.

“You alright?” Aaron asks, sliding back into bed.

Robert looks half asleep already but he gives Aaron a lopsided smile anyway, eyes half shut.

Aaron can’t fight back the urge to smooth Robert’s hair back, so he does, gives it a little ruffle for good measure.

Robert smiles up at him. “My god, you’re so beautiful,” he says, soft, nothing like the too loud drunk voice from before.

It makes Aaron’s stomach clench, something tender swelling there, but he rolls his eyes. “And you’re pissed,” he kisses Robert’s forehead quickly, settles back down. “Get some sleep.”


	21. 34. I just want to see you smile again

Aaron looks dejected when he comes down the stairs, rubbing a hand over his face, shoulders tight.

“No joy?” Robert asks.

Aaron shakes his head. “She wont open the door.”

 _Ouch_.

“It’s bad then,” Robert says. “I thought they were past all this.”

Aaron sighs, walks right into Robert’s chest, face buried in his shirt. Robert’s hands come up to rub at his back. “I’m going to kill him.”

“No you’re not. Do you want me to have a go?”

Chances of Liv listening to him are slim, but Robert’s never actually, bodily thrown Ben out of the house, so he normally has better luck that Aaron with these things.

Aaron shrugs in his arms. “Can’t hurt I guess.”

There’s roughly four hundred thing Robert would rather be doing than knocking on Liv’s door right now, most of them involving Aaron and the new rug on the living room floor, but he’s a parent now. Or something. Better to show willing.

“Liv,” he calls when there’s no response. “Let me in.”

She shouts, “Go away,” so, as expected, he’s doing better than Aaron.

He also has nowhere near as much respect for her privacy as Aaron does, so he opens the door anyway.

She’s squashed herself onto the window sill, feet up and she’s twisting a grey teddy between her hands. She looks smaller than usual and it takes a bit of the edge off the viscous look she gives him.

“Fuck off!”

“Oi, language,” he says, closing the door and sitting on her bed, keeps his distance. She’ll flinch away if he gets too close and he doesn’t want to her to have to.

She settles for rolling her eyes, looks out the window.

“Aaron’s worried about you.”

She pulls a face, gives a jerky shrug like that’s not her problem.

Robert’s at a loss. “What’s he done this time?”

“Nothing.”

“Doesn’t look like nothing.”

She looks down at the bear in her lap, he can see her jaw clench from here. “Just go away Robert.”

He braces his arms on his knees, tries to make it clear he’s going nowhere. “It might help to talk about it.”

She shoots him a dark look. “Is that what this is about? You want all the dirty details?”

Robert shakes his head. “I just want to see you smile again. You haven’t been doing much of that lately. And I’m betting it’s down to Ben. _Again_. So let’s try this again, what’s he done this time?”

He watches her waver for minute, the need to keep that wall up warring with the other half of her, the half that craves comfort. The half that Robert would keep wrapped up safe and warm somewhere if she’d let him.

“He shagged Gabby.”

Robert nods, that’s old news. “I know, yeah.”

“No, I mean. Again. Last week.”

Robert feels his mouth drop open. He was lucky to still be alive after last time, Aaron might actually kill him.

“Seriously?”

She nods. “Please don’t tell Aaron,” she says, voice small. “I don’t want everyone knowing.”

Robert feels exhausted, suddenly. Too old and too tired for all of this.

He gets up, crosses to her at the window. “Come here,” he says, pulling her into his arms.

The worst thing about it, is that she doesn’t even put up a fight.

He presses a kiss to the top of her head, breathes her in. She’s been smoking again, he can’t say he blames her.

“I shouldn’t have had him back last time,” she mumbles against his shoulder. “I’m such an _idiot_.”

Robert winces, that cuts way too close to home, even now. “Well,” he admits, “You haven’t exactly had the best role models when it comes to that have you?”

“You guys sorted it out though.”

“We were lucky.” They were, it’s taken years to get back even a shred of the trust they had before, months of arguments and distance no matter how many times they promised they’d work it out. It’s been worth it, but it hasn’t been easy. There’s no way Robert could have managed it at seventeen.

He’s probably the worst person in the world to be offering advice about this, so he just keeps holding her.

She lets him.


	22. 2. Don’t be mad

So, as it turns out, knowing Aaron will moan loud enough to rattle windows if you lick the underside of his dick just right, doesn’t mean you don’t still want to launch him out of a bloody window when he does something stupid. Really fucking stupid. Like, Robert can’t even _believe_.

Liv runs around the sofa when he comes barrelling through the door, getting in his way with her hands up. “Don’t be mad.”

“Oh I’m way past mad,” Robert goes left, eyes fixed firmly on Aaron, loitering in the kitchen, but Liv moves with him, knows he’s not going to go through her.

“It was my idea,” Liv protests.

Robert takes a deep breath, hands on his hips, tries to deflate a little. “What? I don’t care whose idea it was. Seriously? My _car_?” he asks Aaron.

Aaron winces but doesn’t even look embarrassed to be letting Liv fight his battles for him.

“It was an accident,” Liv’s saying. “I didn’t mean to.”

Wait. _What?_

“ _You_ did it?”

He can see Aaron actually cover his eyes with a hand in the background and Liv’s cheeks flame even redder than usual.

“I though I had room. It was a really small wall, in my defence.”

“You were _driving_?”

This just keeps getting better. Not only is his car _ruined_. His husband has obviously lost his mind.

“Please tell me this is a joke,” he says, looking at Aaron, who’s busy looking as pretty much anything else.

“Sorry?” Aaron says to the fridge, face screwing up.

Robert breathes in deep through his nose, lets it whistle out between his teeth.

Liv is still giving him the puppy dog eyes and his car still looks like someone’s been at it with a cheese grater. For fuck’s sake.

“Go to your room,” he tells her.

“You what?”

He points, feels more like his dad than he ever has, doesn’t know how to feel about that. “Go, I will deal with you later.”

Liv wavers, looks over at Aaron. She slopes off when he nods and Robert stares hard at the floor, tries to remember she’s just a kid and that it’s just a car.

When she’s gone and it’s just the two of them, facing off from opposite ends of the room, Robert gives Aaron what he hopes is a suitably unimpressed look, says, “Seriously?”

Aaron shrugs helplessly, gives up on using the kitchen table as cover as comes closer. “I’m sorry. I said I’d give her a lesson this week and you weren’t here and how was I supposed to know she’d be useless at it?”

Robert waves an arm. “Have you met her?”

“Robert.”

“Sorry,” he pinches the bridge of his nose, can feel a headache brewing. “It’s all dented.” He sounds like a sulky kid and he doesn’t care.

Aaron puts a hand on his shoulder, gives it a squeeze. “I know, I’m sorry. We’ll fix it.”

“She better fix it,” Robert fires back.

Aaron shuffles a bit closer, so their bellies are touching, belt buckles clanking together. He ducks his head so Robert has no choice but to meet his eyes. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“How?”

Aaron quirks an eyebrow.

Robert quirks his back. “You really think i want to have sex with you now? After you let her maim by car?”

Aaron quirks the other eyebrow, like he’s not buying anything Robert’s selling. “Yeah, I think you probably do.”

Sometimes, Robert misses the days before Aaron got so cocky.

That’s a lie. “Fine,” Robert says. “But you’re doing all the work.”

Aaron laughs, nudges Robert’s jaw with his forehead. He snags a hand in Robert’s jacket, when he turns for the stairs, holds him still. “If you really want to punish her,” Aaron says. “We could just stay here.”

Robert would love to say that his mouth isn’t still hanging open by the time Aaron’s got him shoved back on the sofa, hands on his belt, but he’s not a liar anymore.

 

 


	23. 36. Are you even real?

Robert has no idea what he’s done to deserve this. He doesn’t care either, as long as Aaron doesn’t stop.

He digs his head back into the pillow, really stretches out, arms over his head, feels the burn of pleasure through muscle.

The sheets are cool, smell of cut grass on the breeze through the window and Aaron’s throat fluttering around his cock with every bob of his head.

It’s entirely possible that life could not get any better than this.

He glances down, past the entry wound and his own belly. Aaron’s eyes are closed, not like he’s embarrassed, like he’s _enjoying_ himself, like Robert tastes good and he doesn’t want to miss a second. 

Robert watches him pull back, tongue coming out to lap soft at the head, smearing spit and precum. It makes something bubble hot in Robert’s chest, knees raising a little so he can spread his thighs even wider, open himself up even more. He wants Aaron to know he can take anything he wants, as long he _takes_.

Aaron’s cheek hollowing on his way back down is almost too much, shakes a moan free, vision swimming. No one should be this good, nothing should feel this good.

There’s a spit-slicked thumb rubbing down behind Robert’s balls, gentle pressure at his hole, making him feel empty and aching. Aaron doesn’t push any further than that, seem to know the idea of it is enough to get Robert’s pulse racing, hips flexing.

There’s sweat beading at his hairline, under his arms; body heat and sex turning the room humid. It makes it hard to breathe, hard to brace himself for each stroke of Aaron’s mouth, stomach tense, legs shaking.

When it hits, it comes out of no where, a punch to the gut. His hands fly down, trying to find purchase on Aaron’s shoulders, through his hair. Aaron’s name stuck in his throat like a swear word.

Aaron takes it all, of course he does, pulls off with a wet _pop_ and doesn’t even have the decency to look smug, knows he doesn’t need to bother.

Robert’s pretty sure the bed is shaking.

Aaron stays where he is, turns his damp face into the skin of Robert’s hip while they both catch their breath.

“Are you even real?” Robert asks the ceiling. He feels shellshocked, humming.

He feels Aaron laugh more than he hears him, has to drag him up the bed to lick the taste of himself out of that mouth.


	24. a cure all

Robert’s dying. It’s the only explanation. There’s no other reason for him to be feeling like this.

“You’re not dying,” Aaron says, rolling his eyes pretty violently. Robert would be insulted but Aaron’s carrying a steaming mug and he’s got the soft tissues Robert likes tucked under his arm.

Robert shuffles out of his duvet fortress a little, groans a bit so Aaron knows how much effort he’s putting in to moving.

Aaron huffs when he puts the Lemsip in Robert’s outstretched hands, but he doesn’t say anything.

Robert breathes in the vapors. He can’t smell it, he can’t smell anything but it feels cleansing enough. He takes a sip, it’s vile, so it’s bound to help.

“Thanks,” he tells Aaron, huddles around his mug and feels sorry for himself.

He never gets sick, this is shit.

Aaron gives him a look that boarders on sympathetic, strokes a gentle hand through Robert’s dirty hair. He should probably shower today. As soon as his head stops aching.

He closes his eyes, lets himself lean into Aaron’s hand. It’s soothing in a way nothing except sleep has managed to be so far. His head feels a bit less like it’s going to explode.

And if he makes an involuntary sad noise when Aaron moves to leave, well, he’s sick, probably delirious. No one can hold it against him.

“What?” Aaron asks. He looks like he’s having to work very hard at being patient.

Robert nods to the empty side of the bed. “Stay? I’m bored by myself.”

Aaron sighs. “I’ve got work.”

Robert is not above pulling out the puppy dog eyes. “Please? I’m poorly.”

Aaron sighs harder, gives in. “Fine.”

He settles on top of the covers, up against the headboard and wraps himself around Robert as best he can. Robert sniffles miserably and drinks his disgusting drink.

Aaron’s hand is back in his hair though, so there’s that.

He closes his eyes, lets himself drift.

“Better?” Aaron asks.

Robert hums, curls his fingers loosely in the hem of Aaron’s t shirt. “Love you.”

Aaron’s laughs, a soft puff of air. “I love you too.”

Maybe if he goes to sleep, he’ll feel better when he wakes up. In the meantime, he’s going enjoy being cuddled.


	25. come to bed

It’s late, the kind of late you can hear, everything still and dark and humming.

Robert’s tucked into the corner of the sofa, legs stretched out. He’s got the tv on mute, mostly for company, a little static buzz and a cartoon, of all things, flickering in the corner.

He told Aaron he’d be up soon hours ago but he can’t put this book down. He’ll just finish this chapter, he keeps telling himself. It’s the weekend, it’s not like he’s got anywhere to be tomorrow.

He hears Aaron coming down the stairs because he’s about as light footed as a fucking camel.

“I’ll be up in a minute,” he tells him, not looking up. They’re about to find the girl, they’ve got to be.

Aaron leans over the back of the sofa, shadow falling across the page. “You said that ages ago,” he scratches his fingers through Robert’s hair, makes his scalp tingle. “Come to bed.”

“I just want to finish this bit.”

He can feel Aaron lean in close, breath stirring the fine hairs behind Robert’s ear. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

Robert does pause, because that’s not the sort of offer you just dismiss. But this book is really good and he did get off this afternoon.

Still, there’s no need to be rude. “Just give me half an hour.”

That gets him a wet tongue dragging down his neck, Aaron’s hands smoothing over his shoulders to slide down Robert’s chest.

His book crinkles in his hand when Aaron’s thumb brushes a nipple.

They’re playing dirty then.

If Aaron can’t see him sink his teeth into his bottom lip to keep quiet, it doesn’t count.

Aaron kisses down his neck. Lips and teeth and tongue. He noses Robert’s shirt out of the way, sucks bites along the muscle where neck meets shoulder.

It feels amazing, turns Robert’s insides molten. He tilts his head, asks for more. Keeps pretending to read.

“Come to bed,” Aaron says again, swaps sides. Keeps going until skin of Robert’s neck feels tight and hot, spit over beard burn, and his dick is half hard in his shorts.

Robert hums, isn’t sure he can pull off disinterested if he actually says something.

Aaron huffs, hand coming up to Robert’s jaw and Robert finds his head being turned, whole face pushed to the side so Aaron can fit their mouths together.

The angle’s awful but they make it work. The kind of messy tongue kisses Robert usually only gets when Aaron’s had his dick down his throat and his mouth is tired.

Aaron pulls back with a suck at Robert’s bottom lip, working it wet and swollen.

Robert’s head spins. His book is lying forgotten across his lap. He can’t remember what it’s called.

Aaron presses a kiss to his cheek, another to the corner of his eye. “Come to bed,” he says. Robert can hear a smirk in there this time but it doesn’t seem to matter much any more.

“Still going to make it worth my while?” he asks, swinging his legs round.

Aaron meets his eyes, dark heat and laughter. “Come and find out.”

And really. Robert can finish his book in the morning.


	26. birthday sex for mia

They have a lot of sex. There aren’t many places in the flat they haven’t done _something_ and Aaron lost count of the number of ways there are to make Robert come years ago.

But if you pressed him, if he _had_ to choose, this would be his favourite.

He’s got Robert on his back, upside down on the bed, Roberts knees up, pressed tight to Aaron’s ribs while they rock together. He’s balls deep but it feels like more than that, like he could sink right inside Robert’s skin if he let himself.

Their chests are slip sliding with sweat, Robert flushed red right down to his nipples. His head’s thrown back over the end of the bed, neck straining, the perfect place for Aaron to scrub his chin, rough him up even more, chase the burn with his tongue, feel that moan vibrate right into his own mouth.

Robert’s hands come up, leaving wrinkled sheets to grip Aaron’s biceps. He uses his knees to pull Aaron in tighter. “Come on, come on,” he’s muttering, begging really but Aaron knows it’s mindless. Robert’s wide gaze is half vacant, not all there.

Aaron loves him like this. When he’s lost to it, chasing his own pleasure, fucking himself down on Aaron’s dick like he can’t help himself, can’t hold still.

Aaron shifts his knees, angles Robert’s hips a little higher, rocks a little harder. _Wait for it._

Robert’s eyes slam shut, teeth sinking deep into his bottom lip as he rides out a shudder.

Aaron plants his fist in the sheets by Robert’s shoulder, gets a hand down between then to strip Robert’s dick in counterpoint to his thrusts. His own balls are aching, drawing up tight with the urge to let go but Robert has to come first. Aaron wants to feel that flutter, when Robert’s body clamps down around his, loosens back up in stuttering increments.

There’s sweat in his eyes and he’s going to be feeling this in his knees tomorrow.

Yeah. This is definitely his favourite.


	27. i could watch you ride me all day

There are views, and then there are views. This a _view_.

Robert’s on his back, arms behind his head. To the casual observer he probably looks relaxed but they wouldn’t be able to see the white knuckled grip he’s got on the pillow under his head. He’s barely holding on, control slipping.

Because he’s got Aaron astride his hips, body rolling as he fucks himself on Robert’s dick. His back’s bowed, hands behind him, gripping Robert’s thighs.

It pulls his belly taut. The long line of his chest, wide shoulders narrowing to rolling hips.

Robert watches a bead of sweat trickle down Aaron’s collarbone, watches it snake down the centre of his chest, over tight muscle to catch in the dark hair under Aaron’s belly button.

It feels like his brain is being pulled out through his dick, like its rushing south along with all the blood in his body. Robert has no idea if he’s ever been this hard in his life. Can’t see how he would have survived it.

He licks his lips, tries to swallow , throat too dry. Can’t keep quiet anymore.

“I could watch you ride me all day,” he says, means it with everything in him. Brings a hand down to splay across the tight skin over Aaron’s hip, thumb brushing the dip there, where Aaron’s ticklish, too sensitive.

Aaron’s grin is lazy, matches the roll of his hips. It’s designed to make Robert’s blood boil, he’s sure.

“I’ve not got anywhere to be,” Aaron says, agreeable.

Robert huffs a laugh, it’s painful, dick jerking inside Aaron, where it’s already too tight and too much. He’s not sure how much more of this he can take. No matter how good the view is.

Aaron plants his knees a little more firmly, raises up higher, just the head of Robert’s dick inside him. Rocks back down too slow, lets Robert feel every inch of that beautiful body taking him in.

Robert’s still got a hand behind his head. Has to twist it into his own hair, needs that sting of pain to ground him, keep him from surging forward. He could do it, he knows he could. Could take Aaron by the waist, tip him on to his back, legs up and pound his way through the finish line the way his body is screaming at him to do. He even knows that Aaron wouldn’t mind, he’d laughed after, last time.

He stays where he is. Shifts his hips as much as Aaron’s weight will allow, lets the ache spread through him.

Aaron’s panting, face screwed up in that pleasure pain place where everything is too much and not enough. He’s gorgeous, the best thing Robert’s ever seen.

Robert angles his head back, tries not to look at the place where Aaron’s own dick is riding through its own slick on Robert’s belly, head wet enough to make his mouth water. If he keeps looking at that he’s going to come. He’s barely holding it together as it is.

He breathes deep, holds Aaron’s gaze.

Aaron comes first in the end. Hot white up Robert’s chest, curling in on himself, riding Robert through his own when it punches through him.

As it turns out, Aaron breathless, wavering sweaty and wrung out over Robert’s body, chest heaving, is a pretty decent view too.


	28. i was waiting up for you

Robert’s exhausted. He’s been in meetings in Leeds all day, fruitless, boring meetings and the drive home was an absolute nightmare.

The only thing keeping him going through the third hour of total gridlock was the thought of finally sliding into bed beside Aaron, rolling their bodies together, warm and tight, and going the fuck to sleep.

It’s a warm summer’s night, dark out this late, just the buzz of a few flies dancing around the light posts lining the drive. The air smells like hot concrete and smoke, someone’s been having a barbecue. God he’s starving.

Robert slips through the door quietly, Liv’s got exams this week, his life won’t be worth living if he disturbs her.

He’s not expecting the tv to still be on, faint murmur of voices and dark shadows thrown as far as the kitchen, flickering.

He’s not expecting Aaron to be asleep on the sofa either. Head on the arm, feet tucked up. His mouth’s hanging open, face slack, peaceful in a way Robert doesn’t often get enjoy. He’s snoring a bit because that’s what Aaron does. It makes a tenderness spread through Robert’s chest.

He stirs as Robert crosses the floor, rubbing at his eyes, body tensing. Only melts back into the cushions when he realises where he is.

“Hey,” Robert says, dropping to a crouch beside him. He can’t help but scrub his knuckles through the stubble on Aaron’s cheek, has to touch him. “You should be in bed.”

Aaron blinks at him for a second, still coming round. “I was waiting for you. Must have nodded off.”

Robert strokes his face again, runs his hand down Aaron’s neck to rest on his chest, feels his heart thumping under warm cotton.

“There was an accident at the junction,” he says, “Traffic was awful.”

Aaron’s jaw cracks wide in a yawn as he nods. “There’s tea in the fridge, if you’re hungry.”

Robert is, but it suddenly seems far more important that he gets his sleepy husband in to bed.

So he shakes his head. “I’ll have it tomorrow. Come on, it’s way past your bedtime.”

Aaron rolls his eyes, but he must be knackered because he lets Robert tug him to his feet, lets himself be herded up the stairs.

They bypass the bed for the bathroom, stand side by side at the sink to brush their teeth, elbows knocking. There’s not enough room really, Robert can only see half of his face in the mirror but it’s still nice, having Aaron’s sleep warm body close.

Aaron spits, cups a hand under the running tap to rinse his mouth out, water flying, wipes his mouth dry on Robert’s shoulder because he knows Robert hates that. He’s an absolute animal, Robert wishes he didn’t find that so sexy.

“Did it go alright?” Aaron asks, dancing away from Robert’s sharp elbow.

Robert holds up a finger, makes him wait until he’s finished his mouthwash routine. Swish swish gargle spit.

“It was a total waste of time,” he says as they head back into the bedroom. “They were never going to sign anything. Probably just wanted the free meal.”

Aaron hums in commiseration, stepping in close, fingers coming up to tug the buttons of Robert’s shirt open, push it off Robert’s shoulders. “You’ll get the next one.”

When it’s gone Robert returns the favour, slipping his hands around Aaron’s waist to lift his t shirt, palms skimming delicately over Aaron’s ribs, where the skin is thin and hot to touch.

It makes his breath catch sometimes, having Aaron close like this. The softness only Robert gets to see. They can be gentle with each other here.

Sliding between cool sheets, blissfully naked, is the best thing that’s happened to Robert all day. Challenged only by Aaron fitting himself against Robert’s back, dick a soft weight in the crease Robert’s arse.

Robert shifts back into him, links their fingers together over his heart and shuts his eyes, feels Aaron smear a sleepy kiss against his shoulder.

He’d take a million shitty days, if they all ended like this.


	29. liv & rob dancing

There’s gentle music playing, that’s Aaron’s first clue that something isn’t right.

He freezes in the doorway when he sees them, keys hanging forgotten from this thumb.

They’ve pushed the kitchen table over to one side, turned on all the lights.

Liv’s got her hand fisted in the shoulder of Robert’s jacket, holding on for dear life as he twirls her across the kitchen floor.

Aaron’s mouth is hanging open, he knows it is, can’t seem to close it. _What the hell?_

He shuts the door as softly as he can, keeps close to the wall. They haven’t noticed him come in and there’s no way he’s going to disturb this. This is _brilliant._

Robert swings her round, her feet skimming the floor until she’s laughing, kicking her legs like a little kid. It makes Aaron smile in response.

“Put me down!”

Robert’s grinning too, cheeks flushed. He sets her down, barely even out of breath. “You need to relax, it’s not rocket science. Just let me lead.”

Liv flaps her arms. “Lead what? I don’t know what we’re doing.”

Robert sighs, steps away, hands on hips. Aaron can see him trying not to get frustrated. Robert spends a lot of time being patient with Liv these days. Sharing DNA with Aaron buys you a lot of leeway when it comes to Robert and she takes great pleasure in pushing at it.

“Ben knows how to dance right?” Robert asks.

Aaron’s lip curls. Fucking Ben.

Liv gives Robert a dark look. “Obviously.”

Robert nods. “So you don’t need to. You just need to follow his lead. It’s only a party, you’re not on Strictly.”

Liv runs a hand down her ponytail, pulling it over her shoulder like a blanket. “I just don’t want to look like a prat,” she huffs. “I’m already going to look like a prat. I don’t know who I think I’m kidding.”

“You’re going to look beautiful,” Robert tells her, voice soft, “And you’re only going to make a prat of yourself if you don’t listen to me. Come here.”

Aaron has to put a hand across his mouth, chest swelling with something he can’t name when she steps up to Robert’s chest again, lets him lead her in an awkward little slow dance over to the sink and back again. She’s looking at her feet the whole time and he can see Robert biting back a smile.

The whole thing makes Aaron feel impossibly fond of the pair of them. He’s proud of the little family they’ve built together, dragged together really, from the scraps of them all.

He moves forward, wanting to be with them. Pockets his keys casually like he’s just coming in.

Liv steps on Robert’s foot when she spots Aaron mid spin, and Robert grunts as though she isn’t just in socks.

Liv puts a good amount of distance between herself and Robert with impressive speed. “What are you doing here?”

Robert looks equally mortified. Another treat.

Aaron gives her a look. “I live here. What are you doing?”

She folds her arms, cheeks on fire. “Nothing.”

“Really?” Aaron says, delighted, can’t help himself. “Because it looked like you were dancing.”

A sulky shrug. “Must be seeing things.”

Robert recovers better, rolls his eyes at the pair of them. “She’s going to that thing with Ben tomorrow, the charity thing Vic’s catering. I was just helping her out.”

“Showing her how the other half live?” Aaron says.

It’s funny really, that Liv’s the one with an arrogant arse of a boyfriend living up at Home Farm these days.

“Well she could hardly ask you, could she?” Robert points out, grabbing Aaron round the waist and pulling him in close.

It puts Aaron right up again his chest, where he’s broad and firm, too warm through his shirt.

Aaron slaps at him when Robert tries to shuffle him into a little sway, plants his feet. “Get off.”

Robert settles for holding him close and Aaron lets him. He’s quite content to be cuddled in his own kitchen, what else is it for?

“You two get more revolting every day,” Liv announces, pushing between them. “Now go away, I was just starting to get it.”

Eventually Aaron agrees to leave them to it, there’s bound to be a pint with his name on at the pub. He can’t wait to tell his mum about this.


	30. love bites

Aaron’s whole body is shaking through the aftershocks. He’s hunched over Robert, still inside him and every flutter of Robert’s body makes him twitch, overstimulated.

Robert flops back against the kitchen floor with a groan, low and long and satisfied.

“Jesus,” Robert’s saying.

Aaron nods, still catching his breath. His arms are trembling where they’re holding him up. Sometimes, he doesn’t know how they survive it.

He pulls out slowly, careful of the face Robert always makes when he tugs free.

He slumps down, lets Robert’s thigh pillow his head. The floor is cold on his over heated skin, it’s a good job he’s only half out of his clothes or he’d be shivering for a different reason. Robert doesn’t seem bothered.

They breathe together, Robert’s hand coming down to card through Aaron’s sweaty hair. It’s nice, soothing.

“What brought that on?” Robert asks. He sounds far away, stunned.

Aaron hides a smile in Robert’s hip. He had sort of pounced on him, not that Robert had seemed to mind at the time.

“I missed you,” he says, eyes snagging on Robert’s dick where it’s softening against his other thigh. He can smell it, come and sex and _them_. It makes his stomach clench.

Not out of his system yet then.

He leans up a little, drags his tongue through the mess Robert’s made of his belly, scrubs it through the fine hairs leading down from his belly button, tastes salt, home.

Robert’s fist closes loosely in Aaron’s hair as he sucks his way from one hip to the other, just holding on.

His dick jerks against Aaron’s chin when his stubble catches on it, a sharp intake of breath from Robert. He ducks down to press a kiss to the head, an apology, even though it makes Robert swear and shift his legs.

He pulls back a little when Robert’s clean, nuzzles his nose into Robert’s belly button to watch him squirm.

There’s a mess of bruises over Robert’s hipbone. Dark with blood pulled the surface and stark again the winter pale skin of Robert’s belly. Robert made his peace with beard burn years ago but that’s not what this is. This is something else.

“Whoops,” Aaron says, completely unapologetic. It makes something inside him sing, seeing his marks on Robert’s body. The same part of him that can’t take his eyes off his wedding ring when they’re out in public.

Robert’s his, in all the ways that matter. No harm in reminding him.

Robert doesn’t even lift his head. But he knows Aaron, and his voice is dark. “What did you do?”

Aaron laves one of the marks with the flat of his tongue, can’t help himself. “Might have gotten a bit carried away,” he says.

Robert’s belly ripples when he laughs and the hand in Aaron’s hair tugs a little. “Well don’t let me stop you. Get carried away over to the left a bit will you? I reckon I could go again.”


	31. i didn't know you smoked

There’s an ant weaving back and forth around Aaron’s boot. He’s been sat on the pavilion steps for so long he’s resorted to watching a fucking ant.

He’d though it was about to pick up the half dead leaf near his toes for a while but it doesn’t seem like it can be bothered.

Aaron knows the feeling.

It’s been a rough day, a rough few days really. Waste of time trip to meet a useless scrap contact, more trouble from Liv, a shouting match with his mum, no Robert to lick his wounds.

It’s been years since he’s done a runner, taken himself off on his own. It makes him feel like a teenager again, sitting here, cig in hand.

He hasn’t lit it. It isn’t even his, he’d just found the pack on the railing, but it fits nicely between his fingers. A pantomime of someone he used to be, sixteen, seventeen, furious at the world, at himself. He’d have smoked his lungs out back then given the chance. No reason not to.

It’s probably the same reason he’s forever taking them off Liv, finding crumpled boxes stuffed in pockets when he sorts the washing.

He wishes he didn’t understand her anger so well. It’s difficult to let his own go when she’s always there to remind him of it.

Mostly he wishes he knew how to help her.

The ant’s got a mate now but they’re no closer to finding that leaf. He watches them bumble along together, pretends to ash the cigarette in his hands just because he can.

There’s a blur at the corner of his vision. Robert, striding up the hill, jacket flapping.

He’s not supposed to be back until Sunday, some haulage conference he’d agreed to go to with Jimmy. He’d moaned about it for weeks but it’s been Aaron sleeping in their bed alone every night. He’d take a posh hotel over that any day.

Robert comes to a stop a few feet away. He’s back lit by the sun, face in shadow but he’s still the best thing Aaron’s seen in days.

“You’re back.”

Robert nods. “Jimmy can handle it on his own.”

Aaron knows what that means. “Mum rang you then.”

“Paddy actually,” even Robert sounds surprised. The truce between them two is still on shaky ground. “Said you weren’t doing great.”

Aaron scoffs. Typical. “I’m fine. Paddy worries like an old woman, you know that. You didn’t have to come home, I’m not six.”

Robert shrugs, like it doesn’t matter, comes to sit beside him, hips touching.

It’s a while before he says anything else.

He nods down at Aaron’s hand. “I didn’t know you smoked.”

Aaron looks down at the cigarette. “Not for years.”

“So…?”

“So nothing,” Aaron flicks it away, lost in the grass. “I just found it here.”

Robert sighs, knocks their shoulders together. “What’s wrong?”

Aaron glances at him. Sometimes it hurts to look at Robert, at the soft eyes, furrowed brow. He’s so _earnest_ sometimes, even after everything he’s done.

Aaron shrugs. “Liv’s got herself in trouble again.”

Robert pinches at the bridge of his nose. “Drinking,” he says, not a question. It never is these days.

“I don’t know what else I’m supposed to do. Mum’s just making it worse. The harder I come down on her the worse it’s getting,” he’s blinking back tears suddenly, nose stuffed up, “I used to know what to say to help her and now I’ve no idea.”

Robert slides an arm around his shoulders and Aaron sinks into it. This is what he’s missed this week. There’s a comfort only Robert can give him. It soothes a lot of aches, always has.

“Maybe it’s time to make her see someone,” Robert suggests.

“A counsellor?”

“Helped us didn’t it? It’s got to be worth a try.”

Aaron knows he’s right. It’s just not a conversation he’s been looking forward to. He’s sick of fighting.

Robert presses a kiss to his temple, gathers him closer, holds him together. “I’ll talk to her,” he offers. Because he gets it, he always does.

Aaron rests his head on Robert’s shoulder, breathes him in, watches the sun slipping away.

He’s not sixteen any more and he’s not on his own. They can fix this.


	32. pub PDA

There’s something about the pub at Christmas, the lights, the music. It’s always busy, everyone that little bit more cheerful, that little bit more likely to have that extra drink.

It’s cold out, been dark for hours, inky black through steamed up windows. It’s nice being inside in the warm when it’s like this. Cozy.

Robert leans back in his seat. He’s been swirling the last inch of his lukewarm pint around the glass for the last ten minutes. Ordinarily he might get up, push next to Aaron at the bar, ask him what the hold up is, but he doesn’t mind waiting.

Liv’s behind the bar, eating a packet of crisps and pulling faces at Aaron. Aaron’s laughing, Robert’s next pint sweating by his elbow. Robert likes watching them together, being silly. He’s not going to interrupt.

Aaron’s spinning his engagement ring again. He does it all the time, rolls it round, tugs it on and off. Robert doesn’t think he knows he’s doing it, can’t tell if it’s a comfort thing or if he’s not used to wearing it, still.

It always gives him a thrill seeing that ring on Aaron’s finger and he likes the way Aaron’s fussing draws attention to it. Everyone knows who he belongs to now, can’t doubt it. Everyone knows they’re each other’s.

Robert thumbs at his own ring. Sturdier than the last one he’d worn, warm from his body. Right in a way that so few things in his life ever have been.

“You alright?” Aaron asks, finally putting Robert’s pint in from of him. He sits down beside Robert in the booth because they do that now. Don’t need a couple of feet and a table between them, not any more.

Robert picks up his pint for a sip, reaches over for Aaron’s hand, links their fingers together in his lap and holds on. Aaron’s hand is cold, damp from carrying Robert’s beer. It take a while for their temperatures to equalise.

Aaron’s looking at him funny. “What?” Robert asks.

Aaron’s touch twitches, a little facial shrug. “Didn’t realise we were into holding hands now.”

Robert notes that he isn’t letting go. “We hold hands all the time.”

Aaron nods, thumb stroking over Robert’s skin. “Yeah but,” he glances round the pub.

No one’s looking. No one would care if they did but the table’s pretty good cover either way.

“Fuck em,” Robert says, presses a quick kiss to Aaron’s stubble rough cheek, just to prove he can.

Aaron laughs, startled, takes a swig of his own pint, licks his lips clean. Robert wants him more than he’s ever wanted anything. Can’t believe he gets to keep him now.

They’re getting _married_.

They’re still holding hands under the table like school kids.

It’s like flying sometimes, being himself.


	33. banana bread

The house smells good. Like bananas and sugar. Aaron’s belly rumbles. He can’t even remember if he had lunch.

“What’s this?” he asks, shucking his coat, kicking the door closed behind him.

Liv’s over at one of the ovens, hands cupped around her face at the glass. “No idea, looks like cake.”

“You haven’t made it?”

She pulls a face. “As if. I’m meeting Gabby anyway. Save me some.”

Aaron wanders closer to the oven after she leaves. It smells even better over here, where the air is warm and sweet. Rumble of the fan.

He’s got his hand on the door to pull it down, take a peek.

“Don’t you dare,” Robert calls. Aaron freezes.

Robert’s running down the stairs, towel around his waist, hair dripping.

Aaron is not prepared for this at all.

Robert slaps a hand against the oven door protectively. “It needs another twenty minutes yet. Get away.”

There’s water running in rivulets down Robert’s chest, snaking down to the lines of his hips. His armpit hair is soaked dark and he smells clean.

Aaron can’t remember why his mouth’s watering. There’s no way he’s going anywhere.

Robert looks amused now though, like he knows exactly what Aaron’s thinking. That won’t do at all.

“This is you?” he asks, nodding to the oven, trying to recover some semblance of pride. “What is it?”

“Banana bread.”

“Banana bread?”

Robert shrugs, looks less smug. “They were about to go off.”

Which is just. So _Robert_. Of course he’d spend his day off making banana bread and striding around like a wet dream Aaron will never admit to having had. Why _wouldn’t_ he do that?

“What?” Robert asks, defensive now. Aaron’s face must have done something he couldn’t control.

He lifts a shoulder. “Nothing. You’re cute, that’s all.”

Robert gives him a dark look. “Fuck you.”

Aaron takes him in. The way he’s stood barefoot in a little puddle of his own making now, pale skin and navy terry cloth. The way goosebumps are raising across his shoulders as he drips dry, nipples in hard peaks.

He’s not cute. He’s fucking gorgeous.

Aaron hums, pretends to check a watch he isn’t even wearing. “If you think you’ve got time.”

Aaron ends up soaked through, of course he does. It’s worth it though.

And the banana bread _is_ pretty good.


	34. lost in the countryside

Robert’s got a nice mouth. Aaron means that in a strictly non-prison movie sort of way. It’s just. It’s a nice mouth.

It’s wide, it smirks, it can take Aaron to pieces faster than we will ever admit. It’s viscous and gentle and far too quick.

There are a lot of parts of Robert’s body that Aaron has a vested interest in and, in reality, few of them annoy him more than Robert’s mouth, but when he’s not using it; when he’s quiet, chewing on it while he reads, wiping the taste of Aaron from it with the back of his wrist, tonging chocolate from the corner when he’s supposed to be making desert. Those times, it’s perfect.

It’s also a terrible distraction. Because the sat-nav’s broken, neither of them have got a signal and Aaron’s supposed to be reading the map.

Robert’s leaning forward over the steering wheel, peering down a lane. “Is it this one?” he’s asking, “They all look the same.”

They do. There’s not even a street name, just miles of hedgerow and empty road.

Aaron looks down at the map on his knee. He’s not even sure he’s looking at it the right way round.

“How many turnings have we passed?”

He thinks he’s got his finger on the right road but he’s no clue where they are.

Robert sits back, puts his foot down a bit because the roads straightened out and there’s nowhere to go but down it for a while.

“About four maybe?” Robert shrugs. “Didn’t your mum say something about a post box?”

Aaron hasn’t seen a post box, can’t imagine why there’d be one out here.

Also, Robert’s pulling his bottom lip between his teeth in soft little rolls, sucking at it while he scans their surroundings.

It’s making it puff up, cherry red and wet.

Robert cuts his eyes at him. “What?”

Aaron very carefully makes no expression at all. “Nothing. I don’t know where we are. You’ll just have to keep driving until we find somewhere we can stop and ask.”

It’s starting to spot with rain, sky darkening. Robert flicks the wipers on briefly. “ _You_ want to stop for directions?”

Aaron rolls his eyes. “I’d rather not die out here in the middle of nowhere, yeah.”

“I can’t believe I thought this was a good idea,” Robert sighs.

Aaron knocks Robert’s elbow with the back of his hand. “It is a good idea.”

And it is. A long weekend in some remote cottage in the hills. Nothing around for miles, no disruptions. No Liv barging in on them on the sofa, flushing the toilet if they’re in the shower. No Adam banging the door down in the middle of the night, pissed and looking for a bed.

Just them. Just Robert.

Nothing about that is a bad idea.

Even being lost isn’t that bad really. He’d rather be lost with Robert than anywhere at all with someone else.

Robert’s looking at him funny.

Jesus. Aaron hopes he didn’t say that out loud.

It’s his turn to be defensive. “What? Watch the road.”

Robert looks back at the road. It’s still empty, hazier now the rain’s picking up.

They watch the wipers thump until Robert speaks again. “I am looking forward to it you know? If we ever get there. I know things have been a bit,” he shrugs awkwardly.

They’ve been a lot. But Aaron knows what he means.

He nods. “Me too.”

Robert smiles, that perfect mouth curling. It’s the soft one he reserves for Aaron, the one with the eyes. It makes Aaron’s breath catch.

There’s a blur of red up ahead and Robert’s head whips round. “Post box! At least we know we’re going the right way.”

Aaron doesn’t care about that. “Pull over.”

“What?”

“Pull over.”

Aaron hooks a hand behind Robert’s head when they stop, leans across the gear stick to kiss him.

There’s no harm in staying lost for a bit longer.


	35. mum

Robert’s got a photograph of his mum. It’s tucked between the pages of a book on his bedside table, the bottom one of a pile of three.

It’s been in there for years. He’s never read the book, hasn’t looked at the photo for god knows how long. But he’s carted it from bedside to bedside every time he’s moved. Always puts it in the same place.

He knows the book would crack open to page seventy eight, if he held it right; knows she’d be looking off into the distance, hand shielding her eyes; knows she’d be smiling, caught mid laugh, probably.

He doesn’t need to look at it. It’s enough to know it’s there. Just his.


	36. give me my pen back

It’s too hot, the cabin smells like whatever Jimmy had for lunch - bad, whatever it is - and Aaron doesn’t not understand a word of the paperwork he’s supposed to be filling out.

When Adam swanned off to meet a contact at noon Aaron hadn’t factored in that he’d have to sort all this out on his own all afternoon.

He’s about ready to crack open the whisky he knows is hidden in the bottom of one of the Home Jame filing cabinets, drown his sorrows, when Robert shows up.

Waft of expensive aftershave, teeth on show. He’s had a better day than Aaron, by the looks of things.

“Alright?” Aaron says, tries to make it clear exactly how not in the mood for a chat he is.

It’s Robert though innit? He doesn’t care about things like that. Grins even wider if anything, snagging the pen from Aaron’s limp hand and sitting down over by the window. “Not bad thanks, what are you up to? Adam not about?”

Aaron looks at his empty hand.

He’s hasn’t got time for this. “Give me my pen back.”

Robert laughs, delighted, twirls it between distracting fingers. “What’s the magic word?”

Aaron glares. “Now.”

Robert’s eyebrows inch up, but that smug little smile doesn’t go anywhere. “Is that any way to talk to the man who just nailed down a six figure deal?”

Aaron remains carefully unimpressed. “It is if he’s nicked me pen.”

There are three other pens in the mug by the phone. But Robert’s eyes are dancing now and Aaron’s having to work a little harder than usual to bite back his own smile.

They both know what this is.

Robert slumps a little lower in his chair, rolls the stupid pen across his bottom lip, closes his teeth around it teasingly so it wiggles up and down. “Better come and get it then.”

Aaron gets his pen back. It drops, forgotten, from Robert’s slack mouth right about the time Aaron swallows his dick to the back of his throat.

Robert’s always easy for this. Nothing but Aaron’s mouth and the flick of his tongue. He can never keep quiet, can’t keep still; hands flitting across Aaron’s hair, his shoulders; thumb pressed to Aaron’s cheek so he can feel himself there when Aaron bobs his head. Aaron doesn’t mind, he’s never minded Robert’s hands on him, even when he should have done.

Aaron swallows when Robert comes, doesn’t always, but they do have to work here and Robert does have the decency to look stunned when he sits back.

He’s got his own smug grin going as he plucks the pen from between the folds of Robert’s pushed-up shirt, says, “Thanks,” like his throat’s not used and rasping.

Robert does nothing more than blink at him for the longest time, but he does help Aaron finish off the paperwork. He’ll still owe him one when they get home, mind.


	37. sunday blues

It’s been a good day, a good weekend really. One of those long, summer ones; endless afternoons and blue skies.

They’ve spent practically the whole time outside, lazing around the garden. Adam and Vic came over for a barbecue this afternoon. Everyone getting the kind of hazy dunk that comes from too many beers in too much sun.

It’s getting dark out now, thinking about it anyway, the air finally cooling off.

Robert lays back on the grass, hands folded behind his head. He’s drifting, watching the sky turn pink, listening to Aaron collecting up bottles, bickering with Liv as they pass in and out of the house.

It’s a strange sort of melancholy, the kind that comes from having a good time. When you know you should be milking every last drop from it but you’re already sad that it’s over. It’s that Christmas Eve feeling from when he was a kid.

 _Jesus_. He’s definitely had too much to drink.

“Don’t help or anything,” Aaron says, standing over him.

Robert smiles a little, can’t work up the energy for a good come back. “Sorry, just thinking.”

He can’t see Aaron’s face very well from here, but he can here the frown in his voice, that hint of worry. “You alright?”

Robert hums. “Yeah, course. Sunday blues, that’s all.”

Aaron drops down beside him, stretches out perpendicular to Robert’s body, head in his lap. It’s grounding the way touching Aaron always is.

“Good weekend,” Aaron says, like he’s congratulating them on a job well done. Maybe he is, god knows they’ve had their share of shitty ones.

“Yeah,” Robert moves a hand down, sinks his fingers into Aaron’s hair, strokes down behind his ear. “Shame I’ve got to spend most of tomorrow in a car with Nicola.”

It’s an important meeting, Robert knows that, but he’d still rather stay here; sleep ‘til noon and cuddle Aaron on the sofa. Watch a Sunday film like they didn’t get chance to today.

“Don’t stop,” Aaron says, pushing his head into Robert’s hand when he stops scratching.

Robert moves his fingers again, a half absent little head massage.

They sky’s a purpling grey now, ground cold and hard beneath his back. They should go inside really.

“I like Sundays,” Robert says, not really thinking about speaking aloud.

Aaron puts a hand back, knuckles pressed to Robert’s ribs. “Me too.”

It’s still rubbish that it’s Monday tomorrow but Robert knows what he’s coming home to. And he’s got a lifetime of Sundays ahead of him.


	38. liv's life is the worst

Liv hates her life. No seriously.

She’s seventeen, she’s got college work coming out of her arse, her last boyfriend caught chlamydia on a lads’ holiday to Maga before she’d even got chance to dump him and now she’s being subjected to _this_. Has she not suffered enough?

 _This_ is being shaken from that almost sleep place by a thump against the wall and the sound of something shattering. In any other house that would probably be her cue to reach for the cricket bat under the bed and go intruder hunting.

In this house, it means she’s going to need a vat of brain bleach, _again_ , unless she can find her headphones sharpish.

There’s another thump; a moan, suddenly smothered.

By the time Liv locates her headphones and begins the arduous task of untangling them enough that they’re useable, the bed next door has started creaking and her brother is enthusiastically agreeing with something that doesn’t even bear thinking about.

In the end, she settles for throwing a book at the wall and sinking back into her pillows. Maybe if she smothers herself, it’ll stop.

::

They’re already up when she makes it downstairs the next morning.

Making eyes at each other across the table. Vom.

‘Morning,” Aaron greets her, getting up to put the kettle back on.

If he thinks that’s enough to win her round, he’s got another thing coming. “I’m surprised you can still walk,” she comments.

“What?”

He looks baffled so she takes the opportunity to jab two fingers into the giant bruise on his neck as she passes. “We share a wall, moron. You owe me about four years worth of therapy.”

Watching him turn red while Robert splutters into his coffee mug almost makes the whole ordeal worth while. Almost.

Aaron recovers remarkably quickly, but then, it isn’t the first time they’ve had this conversation. “Sorry.”

Liv looks up from pouring milk over her cornflakes, wishes she hadn’t when Robert gets up to snake an arm around Aaron’s chest, press a kiss to the mark he left. The fucker _winks_ at her over Aaron’s shoulder before he turns to the sink. 

Liv takes her breakfast upstairs in the end, can’t stomach watching the pair of them mooning across the kitchen.

Her cornflakes are soggy, she’s still got college work coming out of her arse, and she’s ninety percent sure her brother’s getting laid up against the fridge. Her _food_ lives there, this is awful.

No really though, her life is the worst.


	39. shopping

Aaron’s got three bags slung over his shoulder, the fancy kind with string handles and branded tape. He’s got a elbow propped on a clothes rails and his phone in hand. This is painful.

“What about this one?”

Robert’s holding up a shirt that look like at least four other shirts be already owns. 

Aaron shrugs, he stopped offering opinions about an hour ago, just to make it perfectly clear that he _does not care._

“This one?”

Aaron nods, eyes on the football scores. He could be in the pub right now, ice cold pint in his hand, bag of nuts on the table, top forty playing inoffensively in the background rather than loudly enough to be heard in space.

His head is pounding. This shop smells weird and his back aches. He hates shopping.

“You’re not even looking,” Robert points out, perfectly reasonably.

Aaron nods, doesn’t look. “Looks good.”

That gets him a huff. “Do you want to wait outside?”

Aaron does look up at that. He would _love_ to wait outside. “Can I?”

Robert looks equal parts frustrated and fond, emotions Aaron knows only too well. “Just go. I’ll find you when I’m done, yeah?”

It’s nice out, so Aaron gets himself an overpriced smoothie from the wanky juice bar on the corner, nurses it on one of the stone benches facing the fountain. There’s a couple smoking over to his left; something about the smell almost turns his stomach these days, even though he’d still have one of they offered.

He watches a pigeon do battle with a pizza crust for a while, lets the sun warm his back, listens to the fountain splash.

By the time Robert’s shadow falls across him, he feels almost human again.

Robert’s empty handed.

“You didn’t get anything?” Aaron asks.

“I took the bags back to the car, I couldn’t find you.”

Aaron checks his phone. It’s on silent and he’s got six missed calls. Whoops. “Sorry, I was just,” he waves an arm around.

Robert sits beside him, leaning over for a sip of Aaron’s drink, straw turning pink until he pulls away.

“You get everything you wanted?” Aaron asks, an olive branch because he’s been kind of an arse today.

“Think so. I got you some stuff too.”

“You didn’t have to do that.”

Robert shrugs. “Thought you deserved it after surviving the torture of shopping with me,” he’s pulling a face but Aaron can tell he’s only half joking.

And really, he does hate shopping, hates shopping with Robert specifically, but he doesn’t hate Robert at all.

“Sorry. You knew what you getting into when you married me.”

That makes Robert laugh, gets Aaron a casual arm around his shoulders. “It’s what husbands are for, isn’t it? Complaining and holding all the bags?”

Aaron knocks their knees together, slurps the end of his drink loudly just to watch Robert wince.

They’ll get tea now, have a beer and grin at each other across the table. Then they’ll go home, Robert will put on all of his new clothes, look at himself in the mirror while Aaron watches, catalogues the quickest way to get him back out of them.

As days go, it’s not all bad.


	40. robert can't sleep

Robert still can’t sleep right at night. It’s fitful half dreams until the early hours and then nothing, can’t turn the anxiety down enough to drift back off.

He’ll watch Aaron sometimes, face slack, half hidden in his pillow. Match his breathing to the rise and fall of Aaron’s chest until he feels light headed.

It’s hard earned, forgiveness. Never deserved. Exhausting.

By rights he should be sleeping the clock round, the amount it takes out of him. To be perfect, because he has to be now. Can’t let Aaron doubt for a second that he made the right choice. That Robert is the right choice.

So he lies there, watches shadows grow across the ceiling, cracks of light start to bleed through the blinds. Watches Aaron sleep.

He holds his breath if Aaron stirs, feigns sleep just in case.

Everything is balanced on a knife edge. One wrong move could bring it all tumbling down.

He loves Aaron with everything in him, knows that Aaron loves him back. Knows that when he doesn’t know anything at all.

He hopes it’s enough.

But he still can’t sleep.


	41. a room with a view

It’s early evening, sun still high in the sky but hazy now; salty breeze coming off the sea enough to take the heat out of the day, finally.

Emmerdale might not have got the memo, but it was absolutely baking by the hit they hit the coast.

Aaron can finally feel himself relaxing, the adrenaline from earlier melting away on sea air and luke warm lager.

He leans back on his elbows, pebbles crunching and surveys the horizon; couple of boats, the red hat of some bloke swimming between two buoys. The beach is mostly empty, kids dragged home for tea and bed. It’s just him and Robert, miles of pebbles and water.

Robert’s sat beside him, beer cradled between his hands, shaking his head with a grin. “The look on his face,” he’s saying, for approximately the four hundredth time.

Aaron huffs a laugh, like he has the last twelve times, nods.

There’s no way Ross is going to let this drop, but it had been worth it. Aaron hasn’t seen Robert lit up like this for months, he’s glowing.

Robert sets his beer aside and stretches out along side Aaron. “Thanks.”

“What for?”

A shrug, eyes flickering. “Playing along. Helping.”

He doesn’t want to see that look on Robert’s face, like he’s grateful Aaron wants to spend time with him still. Not today.

So he shakes his head dismissively. “It was a laugh. Been a while since I’ve seen you in action.”

Robert laughs, happy, draws Aaron in for a kiss with a big hand wrapped around his neck. He tastes like beer and the chips they had for tea, like the inside of Aaron’s own mouth. Familiar and thrilling all at once.

Aaron lets his hand find Robert’s shoulder, fingers curling around the ball of it, drifting up to tug at his collar.

Maybe the buzz hasn’t totally worn off. Or maybe this is a new one; Robert alive and thrumming under his fingertips, kissing into Aaron’s mouth like he belongs there for the first time in weeks, like he’s not waiting to get pushed away.

Tentative never suited Robert. Aaron likes him best like this.

He pulls away enough to catch his breath, glance down the beach for anyone they might be scandalising.

“D'you want to head back to the room?” Robert asks, wide grin under dancing eyes. Aaron could get lost just looking at him.

He shakes his head, has a better idea after the day they’ve had. “Too far,” he says.

Robert’s eyebrow quirks. “Really? What’d you have in mind?”

Aaron holds his gaze, lets the giddy, flirty feeling fill him up. He loves this bit.

He cranes his neck, back up the beach behind them to a line of sun bleached beach huts; all locked up and deserted for the day.

Robert follows his gaze. “You want to add breaking and entering to today’s list of misdemeanours?”

Aaron laughs, gives Robert another kiss before getting up. “Come on, we’ll even leave the door open so you can see the sea while I fuck you, it’ll be romantic.”

“Oh so you’re definitely driving today then?” Robert scoffs, but he takes the hand Aaron’s offering to pull him up.

Aaron gets a grip on his chin, leads him down for a kiss, can’t help himself. “You don’t sound like you’re complaining.”

 

He’s not complaining later either; braced against the little window of the hut, letting Aaron fill him up while the sun kisses the horizon.

They do leave the door open.

And it is pretty romantic, all things considered.


	42. i want sex now

Aaron’s been winding him up all day. At first, Robert thought he was doing it on purpose but now he’s not so sure. Aaron does have form for forgetting how easily he can take Robert apart.

It’s been sweltering all week. The kind of close, heavy heat that clings to everything, makes the days feel slow. It’s like a weight in Robert’s bones and it’s only adding fuel to the fire Aaron lit when he came down stairs this morning dressed like that.

He’s been in nothing but a pair of loose basketball shorts all day. Commando, because it’s not Robert’s first time, he knows what Aaron’s dick looks like. It shifts when he walks, impossible to ignore. It’s making Robert feel light headed, but he’s blaming it on the heat.

“Shoulda got aircon,” Aaron’s saying. He’s stood over the hob, wafting steam towards the extractor hood with a tea towel. Robert doesn’t know why he’s bothering.

“Not worth the money for how often we’d use it,” Robert says. “Do you want me to open the window again?”

“Nah, it’s hotter out there than it is in here.”

Robert shifts in his seat, back sticking and generally uncomfortable. He watches Aaron cook because it’s such a rare treat it deserves to be savoured.

“Remind me why were having hot food on the hottest day of the year,” Aaron says, he’s leaning over the counter by the hob, arms folded, arse pushed out. Stronger men than Robert would break for a lot less.

He goes over and drapes himself across Aaron’s sweaty back, sucks a kiss to his shoulder. “We could always sack it off and go upstairs,” he suggests, not even trying to hide the semi he’s got pressed to the back of Aaron’s thigh. 

Aaron makes a distressed noise and shrugs him away. “S’too hot. Try a cold shower.”

Robert’s not even ashamed of the groan he lets out. He wants to get fucked and he wants it now. This is so unfair.

“This is so unfair.”

“How’s that?”

“You’ve been teasing me all day.”

Aaron’s already flushed from the heat but his mouth does quirk. “Heat must be making you delirious, mate.”

Robert huffs. Categorically does _not_ stamp his feet. “I want sex now.”

Aaron looks unimpressed. “Not until you’ve eaten your broccoli,” he says, reaching for the colander, “I haven’t slaved away over this for you to not eat it.”

They eat in silence. Robert still mostly hard under the table, arse sweating in his seat; Aaron methodically cutting his food into bite-sized pieces, chewing intently, generally making a normal meal last as long as is physically possible.

Robert grabs him as soon as he sets his fork down, drags him out of his seat and towards the stairs. It’ll be cooler in the bedroom if they put the fan on.

Aaron’s laughing even as he drags his feet. “Shouldn’t we let the food go down or something?” he asks, stumbling as Robert hustles him up the staircase.

“We’re not going swimming. Besides, all you’ve got to do is lie there and look pretty.”

They fall into the bedroom, Aaron still laughing. He lets Robert shove him down on to the bed, even lifts his hips helpfully so Robert can peel those fucking shorts down his legs. He bites kisses across Aaron’s hips as he goes, sets his teeth to the muscle high on Aaron’s thigh just to make him hiss.

He ducks back in immediately, gets his mouth around the head of Aaron’s half hard dick. There’s something heady about sucking Aaron hard, feeling him thicken up against Robert’s tongue. It always makes Aaron’s breathe catch, heels sliding on the bed, makes him grunt like it feels too good.

Aaron’s panting by the time Robert pulls off, one arm flung across the bed. “Lube,” he reminds Robert, as if he’d forget.

Robert gets himself ready, hasn’t got the patience for Aaron to do it for him, all careful eyes and teasing smirk. He just wants it done, wants to get Aaron inside him as soon as. He doesn’t care if he’s rushing, doesn’t mind the burn.

Aaron’s eyes roll in his head when Robert settles across his hips, uses a hand around the base of Aaron’s dick to steady it and slides down on to him.

Robert’s moan is pure satisfaction, loud enough to rattle in his chest. 

He takes a moment when he’s fully seated, just to sit there, enjoy the too full feeling of being exactly where he wants to be.

He slaps Aaron’s hands away when he reaches for Robert’s hips, plants a palm in the middle of Aaron’s chest to hold him down. “Just look pretty,” Robert reminds him, hips starting to roll.

He can see Aaron’s fingers twitch, watches him bring his hands over his head to curl around a pillow. “Thought that was your job,” Aaron says, eyes dancing.

Robert has to duck down to taste that smile.

He rides Aaron until his thighs are burning, sweat dripping off them both. Until they can’t tease any more because everything else has fallen away, it’s just them and this, chasing orgasm, bodies moving.

Aaron can never keep his hands to himself. The fourth time he grabs for Robert Robert links their fingers together, moves over Aaron’s body to hold his hands down against the sheets.

The change in angle does something for him, and it pushes his dick more firmly against Aaron’s belly.

They’re panting into each other’s mouths by the time Robert comes, Aaron following him over; not enough coordination to kiss, just tongues and breath and beard burn across Robert’s chin.

After, they sprawl across damp sheets, chests heaving, Robert trying to massage the feeling back into his legs.

They never did turn the fan on.


	43. it's always easy like this

It’s always easy like this; 

Just the two of them, wrapped together in their own bed. These a safety in having Aaron over him, inside him; a wholeness.

Robert’s got his knees up around Aaron’s ribcage, arms locked around his neck to hold them together while their bodies rock. He’d had his face tucked into Aaron’s neck for a while but they’re looking at each other now, sharing breath.

Aaron eyes are so blue like this, warm in a way that doesn’t make sense. He’s got his bottom lip caught up between his teeth, only the slightest wrinkle in his brow giving away that this is getting to him, that it’s work, no matter how you look at it.

Robert relaxes his shoulders back into the pillows, lets Aaron set the pace. He feels almost serene, even while his breath is hitching in little whimpers on every thrust.

He puts a hand to Aaron’s cheek. “I love you,” a quiet exhale.

Aaron smiles, dips down for a kiss. “I love you more.” 

It’s an old joke now, the kind made funny by time and nothing else. They’ve come a long way.

Aaron’s hips are slowing and that wont do at all.

“Keep going,” Robert tells him, fingers feathering down Aaron’s neck, across his shoulders. Something’s building, he can feel it, no urgency to it but he doesn’t want to it stop.

“Wasn’t planning on stopping.” 

Aaron gets his knees under him again, long, slow rocks of his hips. Enough to have Robert’s eyes rolling.

“You’re beautiful like this,” Aaron says, swallows around the words.

“Like this?”

Aaron nods, eyes on Robert’s, that unwavering focus he gives to everything that matters to him. “Mine,” he says.

Robert gets it, says, “Always,” and means it with everything in him.


	44. we're meant for each other

Robert hears him coming before he sees him, can’t not the way Paddy always blunders about. The shots Aaron’s been making everyone knock back all night probably haven’t helped matters.

Paddy stumbles a bit by the picnic bench Robert’s sitting on. He’s outside the pub, face alcohol hot and flushed happy. Just taking a breather.

It takes Paddy a little while to navigate the bench seat to sit down across from Robert. Robert doesn’t say anything. The moon is full over Paddy’s shoulder, even though the sun’s still up at this time of year, he focuses on that instead.

“Everyone was wondering where you’d got to,” Paddy says. It doesn’t sounds like an accusation but Robert still bristles. Old habits die hard.

“Well, you found me,” he says mildly, tips his pint back and forth, watches amber slosh and foam.

Paddy nods to himself, hands smoothing against the table.

It’s still warm out, Robert could probably do with losing his waist coat. He doesn’t move.

“I’m happy for you, you know,” Paddy says in the end.

“For me?”

A wry smile, a tip of the head. “Both of you.”

Robert nods. “Thanks.”

“You’ve done a good thing, Robert, making him happy. I haven’t seen him happy like this for a long time.”

“That’s my fault as well though isn’t it?”

Paddy shrugs. “It’s never as simple as all that is it?”

“You’ve changed your tune.”

That makes Paddy laugh. “I’m not going to pretend you’re who I’d have chosen for him. But you’re who he chose and he keeps choosing you. That’s got to count for something.”

“We’re meant for each other,” Robert says. The same thing he’d told Aaron when they’d first considered the idea of a second wedding.

Paddy’s smile is gentle. “Maybe you are.”


	45. aaron and THE baby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> proceed with caution if the idea of bex's baby being robert's upsets you

She’s crying. It’s their first day looking after her on their own. Rebecca had dropped her off warily, making stilted conversation with Robert near the door. They’re all getting there but it’s a weird situation, it’ll take time.

She’s still crying.

Aaron glances around. Robert’s in the shower, he’d slipped away with the promise that he wouldn’t be long. They’d both hoped she’d sleep for longer than this. He’s on his own.

He makes his way over to the moses basket in the corner, looks down at her screwed up little red face, fists shaking with effort. She’s three weeks old now, already bigger than she’d looked in the hospital. She’d been tiny in Robert’s arms, felt like fine china when he’d passed her to Aaron. She’d come early, Rebecca had looked exhausted and Aaron hadn’t known how to feel.

She’s still crying. He tries shushing her a bit, rocking the basket but that seems to make it worse. She’s probably hungry again. He glances towards the fridge where Robert had put the milk, back to the stairs.

He’s being an idiot. It’s not like he hasn’t held her before. They’re just not normally on their own.

“Hey, hey,” he says, scooping her up, “It’s okay, it’s alright.”

He settles her upright against his chest like he’s seen Rebecca do, cups a hand under her little bum, bouncing. 

She goes quiet, hot face pressed under his chin, just a few little hitching sniffles.

He breathes her in, chest full of something he can’t name. “Don’t be scared,” he tells her, “I’m right here.”

They’re settled on in the armchair, TV turned down low, when Robert comes down the stairs. He looks vaguely surprised, but happy.

“She was crying,” Aaron says, by way of explanation.

Robert nods, comes over to stroke a hand through Aaron’s hair. He sits on the arm of the chair, fits his hand to Ella’s back to feel her breathe. “It’s fine,” he says, “She’s yours too.”

Aaron looks down at her; face slack against his chest, totally oblivious to the lives she’s blown apart. Pure innocence in his arms. Aaron doesn’t know if he was ever this innocent.

He looks up at Robert, smiles at him because he knows Robert’s worried, knows it’s still keeping him up at night.

“She is,” he says. She’s his. Theirs.

They’re going to make this work.


	46. i'll keep you warm

It’s fucking freezing. There’s frost on the ground in April for god’s sake, it’s ridiculous.

Robert cups his hands around his thermos, shivers in his flimsy fold out chair. “Can you hurry up?” he asks Aaron, “I can’t feel my toes.”

Aaron looks up from the sticks he’s stacking in the fire pit. “You could always help,” he suggests.

“I’m actually the opposite of helpful at this sort of thing. Do you not remember the last time we went camping?”

It had rained for three days straight and Aaron had been about ready to leave Robert in the middle of the woods by the end of it. They have a terrible track record for this sort of thing, Robert doesn’t know what they were thinking.

“Don’t remind me,” Aaron says darkly, turning back to his sticks.

It doesn’t take him long to get the fire lit, but it’ll be a while before it gets going. Robert’s run out of hot coffee and has resorted to shoving his hands in his armpits and rocking for warmth.

“This is the worst idea we’ve had in ages,” Robert say, “And we’ve have some pretty terrible ones.”

Aaron ducks out of the tent, he’s carrying the blanket from the back of the sofa at home, the one Robert likes to curl under when he’s poorly or hungover. He stops behind Robert’s chair and shakes it out across his lap, draws it up to Robert’s shoulders and tucks him in.

“Don’t be such a baby,” Aaron says, bending down to wrap his arms around Robert from behind, chin digging into his shoulder. “I’ll keep you warm, wont I?”

Robert snuggles back into his warmth. The blanket smells like nothing at all, the way all your own stuff does, but it’s still nice. It’s soft and an extra layer is exactly what he needed.

Maybe this wont be all bad.


	47. come cuddle

There’s a crash upstairs, followed by a series of muffled thumps and a bang. Robert doesn’t flinch; it’s just Aaron bumbling around the bathroom with eyes half shut as usual.

He nestles deeper into the sofa cushions, feet up, coffee mug cradled against his chest, right where he can smell it. There’s a comedian failing at chopping an onion on the telly and the morning sun is bright, striping the room in yellow.

He feels content.

He’s down to the dregs of his coffee when Aaron slopes downstairs, shower fresh and scrubbed pink. He’s lovely in the morning, Aaron; soft and sleepy, unguarded in a way only Robert gets to see. He’s the only person Robert knows who doesn’t feel refreshed after a shower, he still looks like he’s sleep walking.

“Morning,” Robert calls brightly, like he always does.

Aaron grunts, like he always does.

It’s a familiar dance. It’s what makes a family isn’t it? Having traditions.

Aaron shuffles over to the sofa, eyes on the TV. “Do we have to watch this?”

“Yes.” There are a lot of thing Robert would do for Aaron, missing Sunday Brunch is not one of them.

“Where’s Liv?”

“Still in bed. Unless you woke her up with your bull in a china shop routine.”

Aaron huffs a laugh. “Shut up,” he nods at the empty mug still balanced on Robert’s chest. “There any coffee left?”

Robert shakes his head, leaning over to put the cup on the coffee table. “I’ll make some more in a minute, come cuddle me.”

Aaron rolls his eyes but he climbs over Robert without saying anything, fits himself between Robert and the back of the sofa, stretching out along the length of him, thigh slung over both of Robert’s.

Robert wraps him up, holds him tight. He doesn’t might the damp hair under his chin or the cold fingers sliding under his t shirt to curl against his belly.

Aaron grumbles a little, sleepy noises snuffled into Robert’s neck.

“Don’t let me fall asleep,” Aaron says.

Robert bites down on a smile even though no one can see it, presses a kiss to Aaron’s forehead, takes the dead weight of him.

They haven’t got anywhere to be this morning. He’ll wake him in a bit.


	48. you've always felt like home

“When did you fall in love with me?”

The question jars; not because it’s silly, or because Robert’s never thought about it himself, but because it’s not the sort of thing Aaron usually brings up.

Robert regards the ceiling for a while, blankets pulled up to his chin. “Why are you asking that?”

He feels Aaron shrug, shoulder shifting where it’s pressed to his own. “Just thinking. We made a mess of everything so many times back then, didn’t we? It just made me wonder. We’ve never talked about it.”

“It’s difficult to talk about,” Robert points out.

He sees Aaron’s head turn out of the corner of his eye. Keeps his own on the ceiling.

“Why do you say that?”

Robert sighs. Rolls his lips between his teeth. He doesn’t want to talk about this. “It’s not exactly a time in my life that I’m especially proud of,” he admits. “I don’t regret finding you, of course I don’t but. There are a lot of things about back then that I would change if I could.”

Aaron rolls over, presses gentle lips to Robert’s bare shoulder, hand smoothing across his chest to find his heartbeat. “Yeah.”

Robert tries not to think about Katie, as a general rule. It’s difficult to reconcile all his memories of her. Difficult to hate someone you’ve kissed to sleep, difficult to love someone who haunts you.

“It wasn’t all bad though” Aaron says, body shifting against Robert’s side.

Robert can’t help a smile. No, it wasn’t all bad.

He lifts his arm, cuddles Aaron in against his side, fingers curling in the soft material of the t shirt Aaron wears to bed in winter. Aaron’s thigh slides across his own as he tucks in close.

“I do remember there being some good stuff, yeah,” Robert grins.

They kiss a little, soft smiles smeared wet, sharing breath.

“It’s going to sound stupid,” Robert says, when they settle.

“What is?”

He watches Aaron’s head rise and fall on his chest, tries to keep his breathing shallow. “I can’t give you an exact moment. I think maybe I was falling in love the whole time, I was just too stupid to see it,” he wants to shrug, hide from how bare he feels; settles for tracing his fingers down the back of Aaron’s arm. “You’ve always felt like home, I guess. Like something I could keep.”

“You can keep me,” Aaron agrees.

Robert chuckles, touches his thumb to the ring on his finger under the covers. “Glad you’re on board.”

Aaron gets closer somehow, until his arm is right across Robert’s chest, hugging him tight. “I didn’t mean to fall for you at all,” he says.

“I know.” That was never part of the plan.

“I don’t regret any of it.”

“Nothing?”

“We’re exactly where we’re supposed to be. I believe that.”

“That’s a nice way of looking at it.”

“I do love you, you know,” Aaron says.

Robert kisses his forehead, chest feeling tender. “Some days that’s the only thing I know.”

It’s enough. It always has been.


	49. pride

Robert’s shaking his head while he shakes out his paper, one of those stupid broadsheet things he leaves in bits all over the house, too big to even read.

“Not a chance in hell,” he saying. There isn’t even a little bit of give in his voice, Aaron doesn’t know why he thought there might be.

He tries very hard not to feel offended, but it isn’t easy. “It might be fun,” he suggests.

Robert doesn’t say anything.

“It might do you some good.”

The paper rustles when Robert’s fingers clench and he brings it down to eye Aaron over the top of it. “Meaning what?”

Aaron shrugs. “I don’t know. Am I the only other gay bloke you know?”

He realises his mistake a second too late, would slap himself in the forehead if that wouldn’t make things worse.

Robert doesn’t even need to say anything, his eyes are doing all the talking; ice through Aaron’s veins.

“Sorry,” he says. “You know what I mean. I’ve got loads of mates that aren’t straight, would it really hurt you to come for a beer, have a chat?”

Robert finally puts the paper down, folds his arms. “For what reason? I haven’t exactly seen you leading any parades through the village.”

Aaron pinches at the bridge of his nose. He could throttle him sometimes. “Because that’s what I’m saying. I’m saying it’ll be a laugh, come out for a drink.”

“At gay pride.’

“At _pride_. Stop being such a miserable bastard.”

They eye each other for a minute, at an impasse. Aaron cracks first, because of course he does. He goes to sit next to Robert, puts a hand on his knee.

“I know you’re not ashamed of me,” he says, because he knows that isn’t the problem. Knows Robert isn’t ready to talk about it.

Robert frowns. “What? Of course I’m not. We’re married.”

“So come with me,” he slides an arm around Robert’s stiff shoulders. “I’m not saying put on a leather vest and dance in the street, Robert. I’m saying there’s a party, for us, and for people like us that aren’t this lucky,” he knocks their foreheads together gently, “So come and have a fucking beer with me.”

Robert’s eyes have gone soft, even though he’s rolling them, and Aaron feels a big hand smooth up his back. “If I say yes, I’m kissing you in front of everyone.”

Aaron bites down on a smile. “You can kiss me wherever you like.”


	50. love island

It’s five to nine and the kettle’s boiling too slowly, Aaron wants to be settled before it starts. Normally he’d have a beer or something but it’s gone weirdly cold the last couple of days. He needs a brew.

He leans over the back of the sofa. “Hurry up, it’s starting.”

Robert gives him a look on his way to the fridge for milk. “I haven’t actually perfected my ability to speed up the heating of water yet,” he says, waggling his fingers like a moron. “Just pause it.”

Aaron’s not pausing it. How will he check twitter in real time if he pauses it?

As it is, Robert passes him his mug half way through the opening credits so things could be worse.

Aaron lifts his legs, lets Robert slide under them. Robert wraps a big hand, warm and comforting, around one of Aaron’s feet; squeezes just enough for Aaron to relax into it.

On screen the islanders are just stretching awake.

“Was he there yesterday?” Robert asks, nodding to the new bloke.

Aaron shakes his head, blowing gently across his mug of tea. “Only at the end. He’s after Amber.”

Robert rolls his eyes, leans over to the coffee table to pick up his book. “I don’t know what they all see in her.”

Aaron shrugs. “You’re asking the wrong bloke, mate.”

They’re quiet for a while, Aaron watching the show and scrolling through his phone, taking his time with his brew; Robert pretending to read his book even though he’s totally paying more attention to the TV.

Jonny’s on screen saying something boring, so Aaron’s texting Adam back when Robert nudges him. “Is that the one you fancy?”

“What? God no,” he points at Dom walking past the pool. “He’s alright.”

Robert looks appalled. “The eyebrows though,” he says, pained.

“Nothing wrong with taking care of yourself.”

“Yeah, you’d know all about that wouldn’t you?” Robert laughs, reaching out to scrub his knuckles through the four days worth of beard growth on Aaron’s face.

Aaron doesn’t have a free hand, so he turns his head, makes to bite at Robert’s fingers until he pulls back. “Shut up. Some of us are too busy to stand in front of a mirror for half an hour every morning trying to make it look like we haven’t done our hair.”

It’s a blatant dig and it gets him Robert’s fingers digging painfully into the muscle of Aaron’s thigh. “Ow. Stop it, mind my brew,” he drops his phone to grab Robert’s hand.

Robert laughs, sitting back. His book’s long forgotten on the arm of the sofa now, fingers sliding between Aaron’s.

Aaron looks back at TV, holds on.


	51. hugging

Robert has a terrible habit of putting things that need to go upstairs half way up the stairs and then forgetting about them. Like, he will literally walk past a pile of socks and just leave them there. Which wouldn’t be a massive problem if they weren’t proud owners of the least practical staircase in the universe but as it is, Aaron’s starting to think Robert’s trying to kill him.

It’s also the reason Aaron has been traipsing up and down the stairs ferrying Robert’s crap back up to the bedroom for long enough that he feels a bit dizzy.

“I thought I was supposed to be the messy one,” he says on his way back down. Robert meets him at the bottom of the stairs. He’s got flour in his hair and Aaron finds it endearing enough that he pauses on the bottom step, lets Robert snake his arms around his waist.

“If you didn’t want to tidy up, you shouldn’t have agreed to my terms,” Robert says. It’s a bit of a thrill, Robert having to look up at him, Aaron’s not going to lie.

Aaron hums, slings his arms around Robert’s neck to tug him in closer. “What time are they coming again?”

Robert glances over his shoulder at the clock. “We’ve got an hour or so. You’re not going to dust or anything are you?”

Aaron slides his fingers into the thick hair at the back of Robert’s head, gives it a wobble. “Don’t be soft, they’re lucky I hoovered.”

Robert tucks his face into Aaron’s neck, fingers curling in the back of his t shirt.

Aaron hugs him back, watches shadows dance across the wall across from them. He feels pretty lazy and content for someone who should be bracing himself for a Sugden invasion.

“Food smells good,” he tells Robert. Because it does and he knows Robert’s been fretting about it, even if he’d never admit it.

Robert shrugs in his arms. “S’just lasagne,” he says, as though Aaron didn’t spend an hour watching him make his own pasta sheets already today.

Aaron keeps carding his fingers through Robert’s hair, ruffling it against the grain. It’s soft, still the same mess he got out of bed with this morning.

“Will you lay the table while I sort the salad?” Robert asks, voice muffled against Aaron’s skin. He sounds drowsy, not like someone who’s about to make a salad at all.

“In a minute,” Aaron says, hugs tight enough that Robert sways with it to keep them upright.

They’ve got time.


	52. what were we arguing about again?

There’s a towel on the floor. Robert can see it in snatches every time his body rocks forward with the weight of Aaron’s thrusts. He’s white knuckling the end of the mattress, knees feeling hot and sore where the sheets are wrinkled under them. He’s being too loud, he knows he is; grunts and moans punched out of him that he can’t quite bite back.

It’s too good. All his nerve endings are singing, skin prickling every time Aaron nails his prostate just right. There’s sweat in his eyes and Aaron’s breath in his ear; Aaron’s body like a blanket over his back. Robert feels like he’s drowning.

“Sssh” Aaron reminds him, not for the first time, “You’ll wake Liv.”

Which actually isn’t the least sexy thing Aaron has ever said to him during sex. And Robert’s too far gone to care anyway.

He squeezes his fingers tighter in the sheets, tried to swallow his pleasure back.

“I can’t,” he’s gasping, words huffed out in stutters. A long moan shakes free when Aaron’s hips slow. Robert can feel his eyes rolling in his head, the soles of his feet burning, that tell tale tingle low down in his belly.

Aaron’s hips roll in waves, no urgency, he knows this is how to take Robert apart: get him there and then dial it back, make him feel every inch of that perfect dick rubbing him just right. Robert has to squeeze his eyes shut, shoulders tensing to try and reel himself back in.

He’s going to lose it soon, he can feel it. He’s going to come so hard he loses _time_ and he’s not going to be able to stop it.

“Aaron, Aaron,” he’s saying, begging.

Aaron’s hand smoothes up his arm, a kiss dropped to his shoulder. “What do you need?” Aaron asks.

“I can’t. I’m going to. _Liv_ ,” he doesn’t know what he’s trying to say but Aaron must get it.

The hand on his shoulder disappears. The change in angle as Aaron leans back a little had Robert’s knees spreading wider on the bed, sinking down into the shock of _jesus, yes_ that spikes through him.

Aaron comes back with a balled up t shirt just as Robert starts to slide over the edge, dick jerking against his own stomach. He shoves the material in between Robert’s teeth without warning, holds it there while he jacks his hips even harder.

It’s all Robert can do to hold on. Bodies slapping together, sliding on sweat and harsh breaths. It’s coming, rolling through him, _just a little-_

The shirt does muffle his shout when he comes; long and messy all over the sheets, but it doesn’t stop the way he crumples in on himself, air forced out of his body, spent.

Aaron rides him down on to the mattress, hand planted in the middle of Robert’s back. Robert takes it; he loves Aaron like this, chasing his own pleasure, totally unselfconscious, brazen in a way he doesn’t often let himself get.

Aaron’s whole body goes still when he comes; tremble building like an earthquake, hips working through the aftershocks.

He drops down on top of Robert after, doesn’t pull out. Robert spits the t shirt away, pants into the sheets, feels Aaron’s cheek scratch between his shoulder blades.

“What were we arguing about again?” Robert asks, absently. It feels like a lifetime ago.

“I never clean up after myself and you’re not a maid,” Aaron says. He yawns half way through it which would probably have annoyed Robert an hour ago.

His eyes snag on the towel on the floor again. That makes sense now.

“Not a maid,” he agrees, half hearted.

He thinks Aaron says something back, but he’s already sliding into sleep. He’ll have to win the next round in the morning.


	53. boyfriend era: i'm going to make you blush

The mirror’s still fogged up from Aaron’s shower, Robert’s face just a blur behind the steam while he brushes his teeth. It’s still new enough that he’s borrowing Aaron’s toothbrush and folding his clothes neatly before he climbs into bed, so they’re okay to put back on in the morning.

Aaron has made a couple of passing comments about it being okay if Robert starts leaving some stuff here but he doesn’t want to rush it. They deserve to take their time this time, he’s not in a hurry.

Aaron’s already in bed when Robert makes his way back across the landing; darting through the door because he’s only in his boxers and he doesn’t need to run into Charity like that again.

Robert shuts the door behind him with a soft click, the rest of the world dulled down to the rumble of the pub beneath his feet.

Aaron’s sat up, twisted at the waist to plug his phone in. Robert watches him brace a hand on the mattress, tip his head back to take a long swig from the glass of water by the bed, watches his throat work.

Robert wants to put his mouth there, feel the skin shift. Aaron’s fresh from the shower; he’ll taste clean, smell like that stupid mint shower gel he uses. It still gives him pause that he can if he wants, he can put his mouth on Aaron any time he likes now.

Aaron’s eyeing him warily. “What?” he asks, wiping excess water from his beard, glancing down at himself.

Robert shakes his head, leans back against the door. “Nothing.”

Aaron gives him a look. “What?”

Fine. If he wants to play it like that. “I’m going to make you blush,” Robert warns him.

That makes Aaron laugh, fold back the covers on Robert’s side of the bed. “Get in and shut up.”

Robert does, slides between sheets that already smell like them, turns on his side to look at his boyfriend. His _boyfriend_.

“You’re quite good looking really, aren’t you?” he says, teasing. It’s okay to tease now, he’s learning.

Aaron kicks at him a little bit but it just ends up with their legs curled together, Robert’s hand sliding up the back of Aaron’s t shirt to pull them together.

Aaron tips his forehead into Robert’s, too close now to focus on properly; just a smudge of pink and black, the soft brush of his nose against Robert’s and minty fresh breath.

Aaron still sleeps with his arms curled up, hands in fists under his chin like a kid. He lets his knuckles rest against Robert’s chest now, caught up between them. 

Robert presses in for a kiss. Not the start of something, just a good night.

He’ll wake up in a few hours with Aaron sprawled across his chest, arm asleep and feet freezing where Aaron’s stolen the covers.

But it’s alright, it’s early days.


	54. you look amazing tonight

_I’m in love with you._

It’s on a loop in Aaron’s head, has been all night. He doesn’t know how he hasn’t said it out loud yet but he can’t stop thinking it.

_I’m in love with you._

He can feel it singing through his veins, something right, and true, something he feels from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. Every time he speaks he has to swallow around the words.

_I’m in love with you._

“Have I got something on my face?”

Robert’s looking at him funny, head tipped sideways onto his shoulder, face washed in colour as the disco lights flash.

He actually has got a bit of icing at the corner of his mouth so Aaron reaches up to wipe it away. It’s sweet on his tongue when he sucks his thumb clean, nothing like the look Robert’s giving him now.

“Do you think anyone would notice if we slipped away for a bit?” Robert asks, smile teasing.

Aaron relaxes in his chair, rests against Robert’s side while he looks out across the makeshift dance floor. “Probably not. You sure you want to risk it though?”

Robert’s got an arm across the back of Aaron’s chair and his hand comes up to squeeze Aaron’s shoulder, cuddle him in a bit closer. “Might be worth it,” he says, breath warm in Aaron’s ear.

Aaron turns his head. They’re close all of a sudden, close enough to kiss. Aaron wants him so suddenly it’s like a physical ache, lets his hand find Robert’s knee under the table just because he can. He gave up wondering if Robert would ever stop having this effect on him a long time ago but sometimes it still makes his head spin. Hopefully some of it’s the drink.

Robert leans in, nose brushing Aaron’s, until their foreheads touch, says, “Dance with me,” softly like he does when he’s wheedling for something. 

Robert had told him once that horses move toward gentle pressure.

Aaron knows him too well, laughs; moment breaking. “Give over.”

‘You danced at our wedding,” Robert points out. “Both of them.”

Aaron shrugs, unable to stop grinning. “This isn’t our wedding.”

He nods over at Liv, being twirled across the floor by Cain at the moment, hair flying.

They watch her for a bit and Aaron knows without looking that Robert’s wearing the exact same fond expression he is. It’s silly to be proud of her for falling in love, but it’s been hard fought, it always is with them.

Robert jostles him as he stands up and holds out a hand. “Come on.”

Aaron slides his fingers between Robert’s, lets himself be led across the tent, weaving between the tables and out under the floral archway acting as a door.

The light is all but faded outside and it’s cooled off a lot. There’s a smattering of people strewn across the grass surrounding the tent; smokers and groomsmen trying it on with Liv’s uni friends from the looks of things.

Robert drags him round the side of the marquee, the pair of them stumbling like drunk school kids.

“I’m not having sex with you in the car park,” Aaron says. “Not after last time.”

That makes Robert laugh out loud. “You started that,” he reminds him, using their joined hands to swing Aaron around into his arms. “Besides, Liv’d kill me. I just thought you might prefer a bit of privacy.”

“For what?”

Robert moves in even closer, hands sliding around Aaron’s waist under his jacket; huge and hot through his shirt. “Dance with me,” he says again. And it’s only then that Aaron realises they’re already swaying.

He shakes his head, feels nothing but fond and completely, unshakably in love with his stupid, beautiful husband.

Robert lost his jacket ages ago, shirt half untucked, Aaron think the last time he saw Robert’s tie Vic was wearing it. He looks gorgeous though; crisp white shirt over broad shoulders, face flushed.

_I’m in love with you._

Robert’s still smiling down at him. “What?”

Aaron shrugs, hold him close. “You look amazing tonight,” he says, enjoys the pleased, surprised look Robert always gets whenever Aaron compliments him.

“You don’t look too bad yourself.”

Aaron’s always loved the way it makes him feel when Robert looks at him like this; that heat, the expectation, the promise. There’s always been a crackle in air between them, that breath before lightening strikes and the heavens open. It’s always wound him up, laid him bare.

He’s aching for it by the time Robert finally dips down to kiss him; beer and wedding cake and everything Aaron has ever wanted.

Aaron pulls away, fierce spike of satisfaction when Robert tries to follow. “I love you,” he says, can’t keep it behind his teeth any longer.

Robert’s eyes are warm, crinkled at the corners, and his, “I love you too,” gets lost in Aaron’s mouth when they tip back together again.

But it’s alright, Aaron knows.


	55. i wont let you

It’s late when Aaron gets the call, Liv already in bed. He’d been watching an old episode of Early Doors, flicking through his phone during the adverts. He’s in the middle of a face-off with that stupid pumpkin lantern on the hearth – Halloween’s not for another week but Aaron had been out-voted – when his phone starts ringing in his hand.

_Unknown number._

That’s normally the sort of thing he’d let ring out but Robert’s should have been back by now. Something in his gut makes him swipe at the screen.

She starts talking before he can say anything, words running together. “Aaron? Aaron, it’s Robert. There’s been- You need to come now.”

His head spins. “Rebecca?

She takes a hitching breath. “Aaron, it’s Robert he’s-”

Aaron knows what a panic attack sounds like.

“Aaron, there’s been an accident,” it’s Chrissie’s voice on the line now; crisp, controlled. “There’s an ambulance on its way, meet us at the hospital.”

“Is he-” the line goes dead before he can make the thought reality.

Aaron stares down at the phone in his hand. He doesn’t remember standing up but he’s in the middle of the room now, pumpkin face still mocking him.

He wavers for a second, vision swimming, says, “Liv,” before he remembers she’s upstairs, shouts it until he hears a rumble from the floor above.

Liv appears halfway down the staircase, rubbing at her eyes. “What’s your problem? I’ve got school in the morning.”

Aaron doesn’t look up from shrugging into his coat. “Get dressed. Something’s happened, we need to get to the hospital.”

“Is it the baby?”

:::

The roads are quiet, but Aaron drives carefully anyway.

“What do you think’s happened?” Liv asks. She’s wringing her hands, bands of orange falling across the lap as they pass under streetlights.

Aaron glances at her, back to the empty road. “They didn’t say.”

“What was he doing with them anyway?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you think he’s going to be okay?”

It explodes out of him. “I don’t know, Liv. I don’t know any more than I did five minutes ago, alright?”

It usually breaks his heart when she recoils like that, but he hasn’t got space for any more worry right now.

“Sorry,” she says, chastened.

They don’t speak again until they’ve parked up. Then she reaches over to peel his hand away from the steering wheel, holds on.

He squeezes back, shuts his eyes and tries to steel himself.

:::

He goes cold all over when he sees her. Stumbles to a stop just inside the swinging doors, Liv bumping into him.

Rebecca’s on her own, hunched down in a little plastic chair. She’s covered in blood. It’s on her face, in her hair, streaked down the front of her top; rust coloured handprints where she’s cradling the bump.

“Is that his?” Liv’s asking, striding over.

Rebecca looks shell shocked, like she’s looking right through them.

It’s so much like his mum was after Robert got shot that it almost takes Aaron’s knees out from under him. He wants to feel frantic, hates that he just feels numb.

He drops to a crouch in front of her, takes her sticky hands in his own to get her to look at him.

“Where is he?”

She blinks at him, jaw working, doesn’t answer, doesn’t look like she can.

Aaron tugs on her hands again, shakes them. “Rebecca, where is he?”

It’s like she finally comes to. “Surgery,” she says, fingers grasping at his now. “There was a lot of blood.”

Aaron nods, has to close his eyes against the thought, even while the reality of that is smearing between his own fingers. “What happened?”

She shakes her head, a denial. “Lucky.”

“Lachlan? What about him? Is he here too?”

Her eyes are watery, lashes spiked when she finally looks up. “He shot him.”

This time Aaron’s knees do give way. He finds himself sprawled on his backside on the floor, Liv staring down at him.

He can’t do this again.

:::

It’s hours before the doctors can tell them anything new. Robert’s got internal bleeding, critical condition, doing all they can, please take a seat, sir and does your friend need anywhere to clean up?

Two stern looking police officers come to talk to Rebecca, eyeing Aaron warily has he paces the length of the corridor.

Lachlan. He should have drowned that little shit when he had the chance.

Liv’s got her phone in her hand, dark smudges under each eye. “Chas says she’ll be here in the morning, she can’t leave Noah without Charity around.”

Aaron nods, keeps walking. He doesn’t care, there’s nothing she can do.

Rebecca looks a bit more human when she comes back. She’s wearing fresh clothes and most of the blood has been scrubbed away. She’s still pink around the hair line but she looks a bit more solid, present, than she did before.

Aaron looks down at his hands, still filthy with Robert’s blood, crusted around his nails and in the creases of his knuckles. Keeps pacing.

“You alright?” Liv’s asking Rebecca. “You don’t have to stay.”

“I need to know he’s okay.”

Aaron can’t help but laugh. “He’d be fine if he could just stay away from you lot.”

That makes her chin wobble, hand smoothing over her belly protectively. There’s a little boy in there, Robert’s little boy. He needs to get it together.

“I’m sorry,” Rebecca says. “Lachlan is-”

“Don’t talk to me about Lachlan,” Aaron cuts her off. “Liv, take Rebecca to get a cup of tea or something. She needs to keep a strength up.”

Liv looks conflicted but she knows him well enough to do as she’s told right now.

Rebecca meets his eyes as she gets up again. He’s always seen far too much of himself there, knows she;s probably the only other person in the world who can even hope understand how he’s feeling. It’s doesn’t help.

Aaron’s whole world in on an operating table right now. Aaron has no idea how he’s still upright.

:::

Robert looks like he’s sleeping.

Aaron eases himself into the chair beside the bed, watches the pump of the machine keeping Robert breathing, listens to the beeps that mean he’s still alive. He’s still here.

When Aaron’d asked the doctor how he was she’d smiled kindly, said, “Let’s get through the next twenty-four hours first, we’ll know more then.”

Aaron had tried not to let that feel like a warning.

Aaron takes Robert’s hand, picks it up off the sheets and cradles it between both of his own. His eyes feel hot with tears, nose stuffed up. Everything hurts.

“Don’t you dare die on me,” he says, a hoarse whisper. He leans his elbows on the bed, presses Robert’s limp hand against his cheek. “You don’t get to do this, I won’t let you. We’re just getting sorted, aren’t we? I bought the paint for the baby’s room this morning. I got the one you wanted in the end. Liv still thinks it’ll be too dark but I told her to take it up with you,” he blinks back another wave of tears, presses a kiss to Robert’s knuckles. “Come on, Robert. You have to wake up now. We can’t do this without you. I can’t do this without you.”

Nothing. The machines keep beeping, Robert’s chest keeps rising and falling, but his face stays blank.

Aaron doesn’t move either; holds his husband’s hand, prays to a god he doesn’t believe in, waits for the sun to rise. Waits for Robert to come back to him.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.


	56. you know i'd do anything for you

Robert’s been quiet for days, withdrawn, sloping round the flat like a ghost, a negative; only half there and out of focus. 

Aaron hates seeing him like this, misses the life of him; bright eyes and golden hair, his grin in the mornings and that sleepy smudge of a smile he presses to Aaron’s chest before bed. He doesn’t understand this Robert, doesn’t know how to coax him back to life.

He’s tried asking what’s wrong, if anything’s wrong, if there’s anything he can do. He knows Robert’s stressed about a half-ruined haulage deal and another letter from Liv’s school. He knows things haven’t been ideal. He just doesn’t know how to fix it. Tired of being rebuffed when he offers comfort, tired of being shrugged away.

“You know I’d do anything for you,” Aaron says. “You know that right?”

It’s bedtime, Robert stacking a day’s worth of glasses and plates in the dishwasher, bent at the waist. Aaron hadn’t meant to say anything.

When Robert straightens his mouth is down-turned, brow creased. “What brought that on?”

Aaron flounders. “I just. If there’s something bothering you, whatever it is, I want to help. I just…” he trails off with a flap of his hands. He’s at a loss.

Robert’s face crumples, breath knocked out of him. Aaron meets him on the other side of the table, a rush of bodies because he can’t stand the space between them any more. His hands are greedy, mapping the meat of Robert’s shoulders, the rough skin on the back of his arms. Robert’s face is hot against his neck, breath warm on Aaron’s skin.

“I’m sorry,” Robert’s saying, too many times. “I don’t know how to let it out sometimes.”

Aaron nods, fingers moving to press at Robert’s jaw, stroke the long line of it. “Just don’t shut me out,” he says, and he’s begging really but he’ll never admit that.

They fall in to bed together for the first time in days, legs entwined, mouths open and pressed together. They need to talk, Aaron needs to find a way to break that last part of Robert open, the part he thinks isn’t safe laid bare.

But there’s time for that. For now, there’s this.


	57. affair era: losing control

Aaron’s already waiting, loitering in the shadows of the portacabin.

Robert closes the door behind him with a soft click, drags his eyes up the open sprawl of Aaron’s body in his chair. He hasn’t even said hello yet and he already wants to put his mouth there, sink his teeth into the inside of that thigh, listen to Aaron choke on his breath.

“Alright?” Aaron says. It’s difficult to make out his face, only moonlight and the glow from the security lights outside to see by; a criss cross of shadows across Aaron’s chest. Robert doesn’t think he looks any less impressed than usual so this is probably going to go his way.

“Hi,” Robert says, closing the distance between them. It’s is easier when they’re touching, a language they both understand.

“How long have you got?” Aaron’s on his feet now, trapping Robert against the desk. The edge of it digs into the backs of his thighs until he has no choice but to sit, lift his arms for Aaron to tug his t shirt over his head.

Robert shivers in the cold air, lets Aaron’s body warm him, thinks of Chrissie, away on a spa break with some old school friends.

“ _Where did you board?_ ” she’d asked him, on their first date, and Robert had wavered between a lie and the incredulous laughter bubbling in his throat.

This is nothing like that.

“Does it matter?” he asks. “I’m here aren’t I?”

Aaron scoffs, but his hands are gentle where they span Robert’s ribs, thumbs ruffling the downy hair the leads down behind his belt buckle.

Robert can’t hold it back any more, needs that final wall knocked down, mutters, “Shut up,” against the rough of Aaron’s beard and slots their mouths together.

Everything else falls away, world narrowing down to the slide of Aaron’s tongue in his mouth, the velvety softness of the hair at the back of his neck, the push and pull of their bodies. Aaron’s taller than him like this, has to kiss down into Robert’s mouth, hands coming up to frame his jaw. Robert lets himself be moved, loosens his neck on his shoulders so Aaron can put him where he likes.

He means to speak, play his part, tease Aaron a flushed pink with commentary on exactly what this is doing to him, what he’s going to do to Aaron in a minute, in ten. But he can’t, his mind is reeling, spun by Aaron’s careful hands, ragged breaths between kisses.

Aaron seems to sense the change in him, body drawing up, making himself even taller in the dark. He pulls away from Robert’s mouth with a wet pop, the sheen on his bottom lip catching in the low light. He takes Robert’s chin in his fingers, just shy of too rough. “What do you want?” he asks, Robert’s line.

Robert takes a deep breath of the damp air between them. It does nothing to ease the ache of his cock, throbbing heavy in his jeans, or the need clawing at him. He doesn’t want to think any more.

“Fuck me,” he says, greedy hands on Aaron’s face, trying to kiss him again but Aaron’s holding himself away, eyes blazing.

“Turn around. Over the desk.”

Robert does, thrills at it. Folds his body down over the desk, shock of cold against his belly, pillows his head on crossed arms so he can hide.

Aaron takes him like that. Robert’s jeans pulled down to just below his arse, belt buckle clanging against the desk with every thrust. Aaron gets him sloppy wet on two, then three, then four fingers, until it’s too much, Robert up on his tip toes and sobbing, lost. Then he pulls free, crinkle of a condom wrapper and the empty tip pressing against Robert where he’s desperate, needy.

Robert backs into him as much as Aaron pushes inside, rides his hips back to meet Aaron’s, body opening up around him.

“Easy, easy, hang on,” Aaron’s saying, finger nails carving crescents into Robert’s hipbones, because he’s gone. Moaning long and loud into the skin of his own forearm. It’s doing nothing to muffle how good this feels, how much he wants it.

He feels too big for his body, completely out of control, fingers scrabbling for purchase on the far edge of the desk, pens and paperwork cascading on to the floor while Aaron gives it to him.

He comes like a gut punch, all the air falling out of him, stomach muscles tensing, releasing, tensing. He feels Aaron still inside him a moment later, curl in on himself, the wet drag of his mouth in the middle of Robert’s back.

For a moment, everything is still. Nothing between them but their heaving chests, aftershocks, sparks.

Cold air rushes in when Aaron tugs free, the reality of it slamming back into Robert like he’s been in free-fall.

“You okay?” Aaron asks, already zipping up.

Robert manages to heave himself over, get his jeans up over his hips so he can sit again. His legs feel shaky. “Fine,” he says and winces at how hoarse he sounds.

Aaron’s got Robert’s t shirt crumpled between both his hands, looks like he’s trying to make a decision about something. When he steps forward to put it over Robert’s head, he lets him, allows himself to be dressed again like a child. Like a toy Aaron’s taken to pieces and knows he has to put away again now he’s finished.

Aaron kisses him again before he goes. One for the road. And then another, and another, until Robert’s the one clinging again, drawing him back in, can’t let go.

Robert wasn’t supposed to need him like this.


	58. stripping

Robert’s peeling carrots ready for dicing. It’s a meticulous process. He’s never made this recipe before and he doesn’t want to cock it up. Last night’s tea had been universally panned by Liv and her three gobby mates, and he doesn’t care that it’s only him and Aaron eating tonight. He needs to redeem himself.

Aaron thunders halfway down the stairs, must slide the rest on the bannister if the thud Robert hears is anything to go by. He arranges his carrots neatly. Maybe he needs a different knife? Or maybe he could sharpen this one. Do they even own a knife sharpener? He crouches down to rummage through the shit drawer, as Aaron calls it.

“Have you got to do this now?” Aaron asks, shadow falling over Robert.

“What? Make tea? Unless you want to go hungry tonight, I have.”

A sigh. “That’s what they invented take away for,” Aaron says, nudging Robert with his knee. “Come upstairs with me,” his voice is teasing, flirty, Robert’s favourite.

“It’s the middle of the afternoon,” Robert points out. Ah-ha! Knife sharpener. Brilliant.

“Since when’s that ever stopped you?”

Aaron’s right in his space when he straightens up; warm chest against Robert’s arm. Robert can smell him, the musk of him, faint tang of deodorant and fabric softener. It makes something fizz in Robert’s belly, Aaron’s attention on him, it always has. But he’s busy.

He cups a hand around the back of Aaron’s head, velvet over the fragile shape of his skull. Presses a kiss to his lips. Doesn’t smirk when Aaron tries to follow him as he pulls back. “Later, okay? I don’t want to mess this up.”

He turns back to the chopping board.

It’s quiet for a minute. And then something warm and slightly damp hits the side of his face. Robert watches at it drops to his chest, hangs there somehow, caught on his shirt. He gapes a little, turns to Aaron in disbelief. “Did you just throw a sock at me?” he asks.

Aaron’s balanced on one leg, pulling off the other sock. He has the grace to throw this one behind him. It hits a dining chair and slithers on to the kitchen floor.

“What are you doing?” he asks, as Aaron catches the bottom of his t shirt in both hands. If he sounds a little strangled it’s because he’s confused. It’s got nothing to do with that little flash of Aaron’s belly.

Except, maybe it does. Because when Aaron reaches back for the collar of his shirt, makes short work of yanking it over his head, Robert flounders. He’s gorgeous; wide shoulders narrowing to the sharp cut of his hips, body honed from long hours of manual labour, meat in all the right places. Robert’s mouth is watering. Even his summer farmer’s tan isn’t as off-putting as it should be.

It’s not exactly a secret that he thinks his husband is fucking fit, alright?  Sue him.

Aaron shrugs, throws the t shirt at Robert as well. “Taking matters into my own hands,” he says.

Robert catches the material against his chest. It’s soft and still warm from Aaron’s body.

He looks back at his carrots helplessly.

“You can’t just…” he flaps a hand. “Start stripping when you don’t get your own way. I’m busy.”

Aaron’s left eyebrow makes a torturously slow climb towards his hairline and his hands drop to the button fly of his jeans. “You want a bet?”

Robert huffs. He doesn’t know if he’s annoyed or wildly entertained by the whole thing. But he’s certainly charmed. He loves Aaron like this; all light, no dark. That grey area in between is fading every day now.

He folds his arms, leans back against the counter top and nods encouragingly. “Right. Go on then.”

“You what?”

Robert laughs. “Take em off.”

Aaron does, skins his jeans down his legs with a smirk and kicks them away.

Robert wants to put his mouth on that thigh, wants to feel the sparse dark hair crinkle under his tongue, ease groan from Aaron’s throat with the sharp edge of his teeth.

It must be showing on his face too, because Aaron looks amused. He’s got his thumb tucked into the waistband of his underwear, holding it away from his skin. He looks down into them, corners of his mouth twitching.

Robert knows exactly what he can see. Can’t stop thinking about it. It’s bad enough being able to see it from here, the way he’s straining at the material, dick heavy and half hard. Robert has to grip the counter top behind him to keep his hands to himself.

Aaron turns around before he shucks them off, because he’s a cocktease and he always has been. There’s a heart stopping view of his arse now though; tight, firm, milky white. Robert wouldn’t mind putting his teeth there either.

“Come on, Gordon Ramsey,” Aaron’s saying, striding towards the stairs, shamelessly, beautifully, naked. “Play your cards right, you can eat me instead.”

Robert chokes on a laugh, already following.

He’s going to take him up on that.


	59. missing scene from back to you (it always comes around)

Aaron doesn’t know how they got here again. He never does these days.

_Except he does. It had started with his new trainers scuffing at the dirt, “Liv’s out tonight” and that long, slow look of understanding Robert had dragged along the length of him._

_Somewhere in the middle there’d been the usual shuffle in the entrance way. The slide of Robert’s body across his chest, entirely too close and unnecessary. Exactly what Aaron had wanted._

_And now…_

They haven’t even made it as far as the stairs, and they’ve gotten better about that the last few times. Something about the way Robert had moved, stretch of denim over his hips, eyes knowing, waiting, it had been Aaron’s undoing. Robert always has been. 

He thinks now, that maybe he’d been the one to tackle Robert to the floor. Or maybe they’d slumped there together, kissing and grabbing at each other. Maybe Robert had laid himself out like a fucking centrefold, hands fisted in his own hair, belt tugged lose, dick straining against the dark material of his underwear in the open fly of his jeans; maybe Aaron had nothing to do with it at all. 

It doesn’t matter any more. 

Aaron’s belly down on the floor, in the sprawl of Robert’s legs, one hand smoothing up Robert’s cock, pressing it down against his stomach to watch it twitch, watch Robert twist. His other hand gathers Robert’s shirt tails, pushing them up, out of the way, held clear so Aaron can get his mouth on him. 

Aaron’s tongue bleeds spit through the material of Robert’s underwear. He laves it against the head, black cotton clinging. It has Robert biting fingers into Aaron’s shoulder, restless hands in Aaron’s hair. 

“For fucks sake, Aaron, come on,” Robert’s saying. He’s breathless, nowhere near annoyed and it’s making Aaron’s blood surge, his own dick throbbing where it’s trapped against the floor. He widens his knees, seeking relief, while Robert scrambles to push his underwear out of the way. 

Aaron relents, helps him wrestle them down to mid thigh, traps him like that. Robert’s dick is flushed red, arching temptingly up against the taut skin of his belly, wet at the tip. 

Robert’s up on his elbows now, eyes hooded as he waits for Aaron’s next play. Aaron’s knows how this one goes. He lets his tongue slip out to rub along his bottom lip, slicks it shiny. Robert’s breath shudders out of him, just shy of a whimper. He’s holding himself still, tick of muscle in his cheek all that’s giving him away. 

He’s aching, same as Aaron is. Maybe it’s not his mouth that’s watering but he wants this. Whatever this is between them, it’s happening. It keeps happening. They can’t stop it.

Aaron dips down, takes Robert into his mouth on a sigh. He still fits just right, still makes Aaron’s heart race. Robert groans, sinking back down to the floor, arms spread wide, body writhing. Aaron anchors him with a hand on each hip, pins him still so he can swallow him down. 

Robert’ll come like this. Between the hard floor and Aaron’s hot mouth. He’ll swear and gasp and give it all up, lose himself. 

For a few seconds, a minute, he’ll be Aaron’s again.

But they still won’t talk about it.


	60. for robert week

There’s rain on the ground, mist of it hanging thick in the air. It’s spiking Aaron’s eyelashes, glittering in the curls of his hair.   
  
His hands are warm on Roberts cold cheeks and his smile is soft; crunchy autumn leaves and hot coffee, the best kind of hug.   
  
“Don’t you ever do that to me again,” Aaron’s saying. His fingers tremble along the line of Robert’s jaw. He’s shaking his head, smile breaking so he can bite at his lip, bleach it white with blunt teeth. Robert watches it fill in again, redder this time. Watches Aaron watch him watch, awareness prickling between them, even now.   
  
“I thought I’d lost you,” Aaron says. He tugs Robert in to tap their foreheads together. Hot against cold, sticking slightly. Robert shivers.   
  
“I’m okay,” he gets out, hands still hanging in loose fists at his sides. There’s water dripping from his cuffs, running over his knuckles. It tickles.   
  
Aaron shakes his head, that laugh he does that’s mostly breath. “Come on, let’s get you dried off.”  
  
Aaron hustles him inside, peels Robert out of his wet clothes with the sort of tender efficiency that shouldn’t be making Robert’s heart race. He wants to say something to lighten the mood but his head’s still half in the river. Still under Josh’s arm, trying to keep them afloat while Liv shouts from the riverbank.   
  
“Liv,” he says, looking round like he might have missed her.   
  
Aaron wraps their Sunday afternoon blanket around his shoulders, draws him down on to the sofa. “She’s gone to mum’s,” he says, tucking Robert carefully into his arms. “She’s fine. Mum’ll take her to see him in the morning.”  
  
She’d had mud on her face, streaked across her clothes from where she’d tried to get to them. She’d looked terrified.   
  
“I couldn’t let her do it,” Robert says, lets Aaron’s warmth soak into his bones.   
  
Aaron’s fingers card through his hair, rake the wet strands away from his forehead. “I know. Thank you.”  
  
“He’s going to be alright?” Robert worms a hand out of his blanket cocoon, presses his fingers to the dampness at the corner of Aaron’s eye.   
  
“Yeah. They got him breathing. You saved him.”  
  
Robert shakes his head. He doesn’t know about that.  
  
Aaron tilts his chin up, until Robert can’t see anything but blue. The eyes he falls asleep to, wakes up to.   
  
“You saved him,” Aaron says again. “You were amazing. And if you ever do anything like that ever again, I will drown you myself.”  
  
It startles a laugh from Robert’s throat. Until they’re smiling at each other, faint tremors of cold easing away.   
  
It’s nothing at all to catch Aaron’s mouth with his own. Nothing he hasn’t done a thousand times before, right here, even. But it never gets old. Aaron melts against him like he always does, like Robert’s the one putting out heat.   
  
Aaron kisses the taste of dirty water out of his mouth, fills him back up with the taste of them. Their life, this home. Warm and dry and safe.   
  
He did a good thing today.


	61. robert x liv, family

He finds her on the pavilion veranda because, just like her brother, she’s a caricature of herself sometimes.   
  
She’s got her head tipped back against the wooden siding, legs sprawled in front of her. Her coat’s hanging of one shoulder even though it’s cold enough to fog breath.   
  
Robert eases himself down beside her, can’t help but fix her coat before he snags the bottle of Jack resting between her thighs. It’s unopened, that’s something.   
  
“You want to talk about it?”   
  
She glances at him through slitted eyes, shakes her head.   
  
“You know, Aaron’s really worried about you.”  
  
That makes her snort. “Can’t have that.”  
  
Robert sighs. “You know what I mean.”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
She sounds done in. Exhausted. Robert knows how she feels, thinks of Aaron pacing the kitchen floor at home, thumb nail between his teeth.  
  
“We love you,” he tells her. “We can help.”  
  
She draws her knees up, rests her temple on them so she can look at him. “I’m scared.”   
  
It costs her something to admit that, he can tell. She’s so like her brother sometimes, she breaks his heart.   
  
He puts an arm around her shoulders. “I know. Me too. But you’re going to be fine, you’re not doing this on your own.”  
  
She shakes her head. “But the doctors said-”  
  
He draws her in close, presses her face into his chest to shut her up. He knows what the doctor said. He’s laid awake at night with the tips of Aaron’s fingers caught between his own, thought of nothing else for days.   
  
“You’re going to be fine,” he shushes her. “You’re a Sugden, we’re made of strong stuff.”  
  
Her laugh is watery, hands jitteriness where they tangle in his jacket. “I am not a Sugden. Fuck off.”  
  
He can’t help but smile, hides it in her cold hair. “As good as. Dingles are pretty tough too,” he allows.   
  
“I’m really scared, Rob,” she says again. And she’s crying now. He can’t bear it.   
  
He looks out across the dark hill, home twinkling in the distance. Too far away to feel its warmth.   
  
He knows exactly how she feels.


	62. "I don't know why you think it's going to be any different this time around."

"I don't know why you think it's going to be any different this time around."

“Because we’re different now.”

Robert looks down at his hands. The back of his left is still mottled blue and yellow, pin prick from the IV. Aaron’s moved closer when he looks back up. “Are we?” he asks, helpless. He doesn’t feel different, and he definitely doesn’t feel better.

Aaron’s hand curves heavy over the ball of his shoulder. “All this,” he says. “It means something.”

“I know that.” Robert’s just never been very good at second chances. Or third. Or fourth.

Cheating death feels exactly like that: cheating.

Aaron shakes his head when he says as much. “That’s not why.”

Maybe it isn’t. Maybe he could take this chance and not mess it up this time. Maybe he could be who Aaron thinks he is, instead of whatever’s still bubbling under his skin.

Maybe this time.


	63. "We need to talk."

"We need to talk."

Aaron’s mouth is a flat line in the mirror over his shoulder. Fuck.

“About what?” he busies himself drying his hands so he doesn’t have to watch the face Aaron makes whenever he plays dumb.

“You and Lawrence?” Aaron suggests. “Anything you wanna tell me there?”

It’s on the tip of his tongue to flat out deny it. But it’s useless. Lawrence had brushed a hand across the back of Robert’s neck as he’d left the pub earlier and Robert had watched Aaron’s mouth drop open in slow motion from across the bar. He knew this was coming. He hadn’t even needed the toilet that badly.

It takes longer than he’d like to admit to school his face but he manages it. He’s been this Robert for so long now that it fits pretty comfortably. He shrugs. “What do you want me to say?”

Aaron brow crumples in disgust. “You’re not even going to try and deny it?”

“Would there be any point?”

“Have you…?”

Aaron looks so appalled to even be asking the question that Robert shakes his head. “Don’t be ridiculous.”


	64. "You're gonna miss me when I'm gone."

"You're gonna miss me when I'm gone."

If Aaron could be bothered to open his eyes, he’d roll them. “You wish.”

Robert drops down on top of him, heavy weight on top of Aaron’s nice, warm duvet. It forces the air from his lungs and his eyes open. He’s proud of himself for not grunting though, Robert weighs a fucking tonne.

Robert’s grin is bright, toothpaste fresh, the apples of his cheeks pink. “Say you’ll miss me.”

This time Aaron does roll his eyes. He does a bit of pushing and shoving to turn onto his back, studiously ignores the way that puts Robert’s planted knee right between the spread of his thighs. “You’ll be home for tea,” he points out.

Robert’s nose makes a soft drag against his own, lips hovering just out of reach. He can hear the tease in Robert’s voice, see the blur of his teeth where he’s still grinning. “But you’ll miss me anyway.”

Aaron darts his head up, catches Robert’s mouth with his own, hands worming free of the duvet to anchor in Robert’s hair. He kisses him until his tongue is tingling minty fresh and his dick is a lot more interested in Robert’s knee than he would ever admit.

Robert looks stunned when Aaron pulls away, so he gives him a final kiss, right on the tip of his nose, and a good shove. “Go to work.”


	65. morning kisses

“Morning,” Robert says brightly, rolling half on top of Aaron before he can even get his eyes open. He loves Aaron like this; sleep-warm and slack-mouthed, doesn’t care about the sour breath or the pillow creases on his cheek. There’s nothing in the world quite like a morning soft Aaron Dingle.

Aaron, to his credit, does manage to crack an eye open and grunt in reply. It’s more than Robert usually gets if doesn’t come armed with a milky brew first thing in the morning.

“It’s early,” Robert says, hand creeping up Aaron’s stomach, grazing the curves of his ribs to rest on his chest, fingers spidering to ruffle at the morning stubble on Aaron’s neck. “I need to get going soon. I don’t think anyone’s up yet.”

He heard the rumble of the bin lorry earlier and the thump of someone using the toilet across the landing, but nothing like the sound of the pub waking up.

Aaron huffs a breath, scrubs a hand over his face. “Right,” he says, and then belatedly, “Morning.”

Robert can’t help the fond smile. It spreads across his face the same way it floods his chest. He strokes his fingers up Aaron’s neck, pushing the crisp hairs there against the grain, uses the push and pull of his hand curling over Aaron’s throat to urge him up into a kiss. He dips down, head sagging on his shoulders to taste Aaron’s mouth.

It’s a quiet kiss; the gentle buzz of their lips brushing together, Robert’s tongue stroking softly over Aaron’s. The sort of kiss that isn’t going anywhere and doesn’t need to.

Robert tries to pull back after a few minutes, needs to find his pants and try to shake his jeans out enough to head into work, but Aaron holds him still; hand coming up to sink into Robert’s hair, hold their mouths together, teasing, until the fizz starts to bubble in Robert’s belly, dick rising where it’s pressed to the wing of Aaron’s hip.

“I’ve got work,” he says, but it’s weak and Aaron’s eyes are knowing, bottomless, when they flutter open.

Aaron gets his other arm up around Robert’s shoulders, the strength in it enough to roll Robert right over him, skin to skin from knees to ribs.

And really? Fuck work.


	66. can i touch you

Aaron can’t help a wince when Robert pulls out, rolls over Aaron’s shaking leg with a groan to collapse onto his back. He tempers it by flopping a hand over to pat ineffectually at Robert’s sweaty belly, tells him _good job_ and closes his eyes, fully intending to nod off right here, right now, leaking come all over the sheets. Because that was a thing of fucking beauty. And Robert does the washing anyway.

The bed rocks, and gentle fingers creeping across Aaron’s hip have him fluttering his eyes open against his will.

Robert’s up on one elbow, blocking out the light, hair a fuzzy halo on top of his head, mussed from Aaron’s tugging hands. He’s biting at his lip, sucking it between his teeth to tongue it back out again; shiny and wet and red. Aaron’s cock, the traitor, gives a hopeful twitch, and he doesn’t even try to hide the wince this time.

Robert’s eyes crinkle, back of his index finger dragging a sticky line up Aaron’s dick. “Can I touch you?” he asks; that soft, hypnotic voice he has, a current Aaron stopped trying to swim against years ago.

Aaron lies there, unable to move away, but not willing to join in yet. “What do you call this?” he asks, as though his dick isn’t making a valiant attempt to thicken up while Robert toys with his foreskin, slicks his thumb back and forth over the slit.

“No,” Robert says, ducking down to drag his nose up behind Aaron’s ear, a deep inhale, the same shiver Aaron can never hold back when Robert does this to him. “Can I _touch_ you?”

He pulls back to let Aaron eye him, and Aaron knows he could laugh now, push Robert back over to his side of the bed and get cuddled to sleep, easy as pie. But if you’re into easy, you don’t marry Robert Sugden, do you?

So he lets his legs fall open again, closes his eyes against the feeling of Robert’s fingers sliding back behind his balls, to where he’s wet and open, aching.

Robert kisses him when he slips a finger back inside, because he’s good like that. Lets Aaron exhale sharply right into his mouth, swallows the breath to suck at Aaron’s tongue, tumble him back inside his own head, fuzzy up the world again.


	67. beard burn

It’s not like Robert minds, especially. He’d be a liar if he said he relishes waking up in the morning with his chin scuffed red and his neck on fire, but what’s an expensive skin care regime for, if not that sort of thing? But, no, he doesn’t mind. He maybe sort of likes it, even; the heat of it, the reminder of Aaron’s chin dragging down his body, mouth red and wet and open.

He knows it’s not like Aaron’s marking him up on purpose, it’s not like that at all. But if it feels like that? Well, sue him. Robert’s got to get his kicks somewhere these days.

He’s at the bathroom mirror, examining his face with the sort of critical eye you only realise you have post-thirty. He has to keep wiping a window in the fog on it, because Aaron insists on setting the shower somewhere between scalding and actual hell fire. Even a half-fogged blur, he can see what a number Aaron’s done on his throat.

“I look like I’ve been mauled,” he calls over the rush of the water.

Aaron”s terrible, off-key singing cuts off and his soapy head pokes out of the shower stall, suds in his eyes. “You what?”

“My face,” Robert says, pointing at it. “I look like I’ve been mauled.”

Aaron squints at him. “Looks the same to me. You should see your arse.”

Robert can’t see his arse from here, but he has a go anyway, just because he knows it’ll make Aaron laugh before he ducks back under the water.

He tries not to think about it while he brushes his teeth, smears his day cream a little further down his throat than he usually would.

It’s not as though Aaron turning him belly-down on the bed and spreading him open is anything new. Aaron’s had a thing about the noises Robert makes when he gets his mouth on him for as long as Robert can remember.. Back in the day, he used to think it was some sort of power-play. Like Aaron had finally found a way to undo him completely, have him on his knees and begging, craving something only Aaron could give him. Maybe it was a bit of that, Robert thinks, back then. But these day Robert knows it’s just that Aaron likes him noisy, likes him strung out and desperate and _his_.

It does smart a bit, when he sits on the edge of the bed, that familiar burn rising through him. No, he definitely doesn’t mind.

Aaron emerges from the bathroom in his usual cloud of steam, body scrubbed pink, damp skin over work-honed muscle. He’s towelling at his hair, raised arm pulling the skin over his ribs taut. There’s a bruise on his side, near his armpit, it’s purpling towards blue, the shape of Robert’s mouth.

Aaron’s looking at him funny, shaking his head, throws his towel at Robert’s face instead of the laundry hamper.

Maybe they’re both as bad as each other.


	68. holiday

Aaron’s entire day has been an exercise in patience. First there was the huge delay with the flight, then they’d sat on the runway for an hour, waiting for a gate, and then there’d been the debacle with the bags.

But they’re finally here, room light and bright, gauzy curtains billowing in the breeze from the patio doors, sun glinting off the ocean right below the room. Aaron can feel the tension melting away. All he wants to do is take his sweaty t shirt off and starfish in the middle of that huge, white, pillow of a bed.

So he does.

And it’s paradise. 

It’s just a shame nobody’s mentioned that to Robert.

Aaron closes his eyes and lets the breeze sweep over him. He’s giving Robert another ten minutes to get off the fucking phone and come and kiss him before he takes drastic action.

In reality, he must fall asleep, because when he opens his eyes the sun is setting and Robert’s still nowhere to be seen. Aaron can’t hear him ripping into some poor, hapless Virgin Atlantic employee any more though, at least. Small mercies and all that.

He snags a beer from the fridge and downs it, because Robert owes him, before he slips out onto the terrace.

Robert’s kicked back on the day bed, hands folded across his belly, watching the sky bleed pink. He lifts an arm for Aaron to crawl up under, spread himself over Robert’s chest.

“Good nap?” he asks, voice quiet, lost in the lap of the water nearby.

Aaron shrugs. “S'pose.”

Robert cuddles him in a little closer, fingertips sweeping arcs across Aaron’s back. Enough to make him shiver in the warm air. “The bags’ll be here in the morning,” Robert says. “And they’re waving the transfer fee.”

“Nice.”

He feels Robert’s cheek press briefly against his forehead. “Sorry for being a knob.”

Aaron can’t help but laugh. “Don’t worry about it. It was a shit day, but we’re here now. It doesn’t matter.”

Robert hums, thigh flexing under the one Aaron has slung across him.

Aaron’s half way back to sleep when he feels fingers on his chin. He lets Robert roll him on to his back, spreads his legs to take the weight of him. Robert’s mouth is hot, tang of wine and salt. Aaron lets himself be kissed, feels lazy and warm right through his chest. He winds his fingers up through Robert’s hair, tilts his chin into it, bare feet skimming Robert’s legs when he can’t keep still.

They kiss until the sun slips away. Aaron thinks he might make it a holiday tradition.


	69. morning after the wedding before

On an average day, Robert being so quiet would probably be cause for celebration. Maybe a small parade. Not today.

Aaron tugs his jeans up over his hips, buttons and zips. A quick glance out the window lets him know the staff are up and clearing away the remnants of the party already. Aaron hopes they haven’t noticed that pot plant Vic was sick into yet.

Robert’s still where he left him by the time Aaron’s got his hoody on, sat on the end of the bed, towel around his waist, gaze somewhere in the distance. Either that or he’s really interested in the generic painting of a vase of flowers the hotel have hung by the wardrobe. He hasn’t moved a muscle, goosebumps across his shoulders where he’s air drying.

“You alright?” he asks, trying to remember where he left his phone. “I said we’d meet mum and Liv for breakfast.”

Robert’s head jerks up. “What?”

“Breakfast? Liv? I know it’s our first morning as, husbands or whatever, but we’ve got time before we’ve got to be at the airport, yeah?”

Robert’s nodding, but he’s not moving. “Yeah. Right. Just give me a minute.”

Aaron got married yesterday, for what feels like the first time, even though it definitely isn’t. He was sort of expecting Robert to be happier about it.

He gives up trying to breeze through it, and sits next to Robert, spreads a hand across his cold back. “What’s up?”

Robert shakes his head, fingers flexing in his lap so his ring catches the light. “Nothing, I don’t know. I didn’t think I’d ever get to wake up wearing this again.”

Aaron catches his hand, curls their fingers together until their rings clink. He doesn’t point out that Robert’s been wearing it for months. Since they stumbled into bed together after Aaron’s panic proposal in the back of that police car, and Aaron wouldn’t let him back out until he’d put it back on.

He knows what Robert means.

He tips his temple to Robert’s bare shoulder. “We made it,” Aaron tells him. Maybe not all the way, but they’ve made it this far. That’s got to count for something.

Robert shrugs him off so he can meet his eyes. “Thank you.”

“Don’t,” it hurts something in Aaron’s chest when he talks like that. Like Aaron’s forgiveness is some sort of gift. It’s not, it just _is_.

Robert smiles a little, because they’ve been through this before, and his fingers are gentle on Aaron’s cheek. “I’m going to be a really good husband, this time, I promise you.”

Their foreheads meet, noses brushing, something tender and bruised still beating behind Aaron’s ribs. “Same here.”

They made a lot of promises yesterday, and Aaron doesn’t know how many of them they’ll break this time. But he can’t wait to find out.


	70. 17 May: the wild night away

In the time it takes Aaron to piss and rinse his mouth out under the bathroom tap, his heart just about settles back to its usual pace.

Just about.

The scene in the bedroom put paid to that pretty quickly though, and Aaron allows himself the luxury of loitering in the doorway to survey the absolute mess they've made of the place.

There are pillows strewn across the floor (one very carefully positioned over by the mirror in the wardrobe door - put there by Robert to protect his old man knees, obviously.)

There's a half empty bottle of poncy imported lager tipped over by the window, dark stain soaking into the carpet. Aaron has a vague memory of dropping it there when Robert had first started to tug his shirt free from his waistband, winter pale flesh under the forgiving, expensive lighting.

The bed's the star of the show right now though, once-pristine white sheets wrinkled and rucked up around the outline of Robert's body. He's sprawled where Aaron left him, starfished across the centre of the bed, face still tucked into the crook of his elbow. He hasn't even moved his knee down, legs still spread around the ghost of Aaron's thighs. If it wasn't for the mess on his belly, cock soft and red against his thigh, Aaron would think he was still waiting for it.

"Are you just going to stare at me all night?" Robert asks, muffled.

Aaron shrugs even though no one can see him. "Thinking about it. View's half decent."

He watches Robert's chest shudder with the laugh he huffs out. Tries not to think about they come-dark patch of hair flattened under Robert's belly button, whatnot would taste like, whether Robert would try to kick him away or drop his thighs even further apart for it.

Turns out a night away is all it takes these days to turn Aaron into a teenager again, if his own dick fattening up again is anything to go by.

He drops a hand to pull at it, can't help himself. And he's most of the way to fully hard by the time he realises Robert's looking at him now.

"Not that I mind being objectified," Robert says. "But are you planning on doing anything with that or should I sort myself out?"

Aaron rolls his eyes fondly. "When have you ever sorted yourself out?" he scoffs.   
"Don't tell me you've forgotten about the Swindon trip already," Robert says, but he's curling a hand around his spent dick, ring finger dipping down behind his balls, to where Aaron knows he'll still be wet with Aaron's come, probably still stretched open.

"You're not listening to a word I'm saying are you?"

Aaron's gaze flicks flicks back up to Robert's face, but he doesn't feel guilty, and Robert doesn't look offended.

"Sorry, were you talking?" Aaron asks, drags his eyes as deliberately as he can back down the length of Robert's body.

There's a bite mark on the inside of Robert's left thigh, high up where the skin is thin. Aaron's suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to heft those thighs back up over his shoulders and remind Robert exactly who's in charge here.

Robert doesn't need to make room for him when Aaron knees his way back on to the bed, but he does somehow anyway.

Robert looks down at him, eye slitted. "You could probably just put it in," he says. "If you wanted."

Aaron wants. But there are other things he wants more than getting his end away for the third time in as many hours. He wants Robert panting, wants his head tipped back, hands braced on the fancy headboard. Wants to look up the long line of Robert's exposed threat, watch him struggle to swallow. He wants Robert as overwhelmed as Aaron feels right now.

And there's only one way to do that.

Aaron palms Robert's knees, shuffles closer, holds Robert's gaze as he very deliberately strokes his thumb over the flat of his tongue. It's worth it for the way Robert curses, air punched out of him.

"Aaron," he says, that half-panicked, anxious voice that means Aaron's going to get exactly what he wants.

Game on.


End file.
